


His Second Suitor

by 27dragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Anal Sex, Bonding, Drama, Hand Jobs, Heat Sex, Human Experimentation, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Omega Bucky Barnes, Sex, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, well regency-style but set in modern times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Omegas are rarer even than Alphas, kept for their protection in sheltered Houses until they’re old enough to be presented to the public and courted. Bucky has lived in Hydra House since he was fourteen, and had the special attention of  Alexander Pierce since he was sixteen. Now, officially available, he finds himself with a second suitor -- the infamous Tony Stark. Bucky knows which of his suitors he’d prefer to choose, but his House disagrees. Strongly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be like 6k of unrepentant and uncomplicated porn. Except I can’t do anything without worldbuilding it, and it developed this weird regency-romance sort of structure, and then when I complained about it, various friends had the temerity to tell me to DO THE THING.
> 
> So here it is. 30+k of The Thing. I offer neither excuse nor apology.

The House Head folded his hands as he regarded Bucky. “Ser Barnes,” he said, “you have been permitted certain liberties because you are, when you choose to apply yourself, a credit to this House. But of late you have been making, shall we say, unwise choices.”

Bucky had only asked his Guardian for another five minutes to complete his project before going in to his duties and lessons for the day. There had been plenty of time. “Sir, I--”

“Be silent,” Head Schmidt snapped. It was stifling hot in the Head’s office, and the ledgers and books that lined the wall behind Schmidt seemed to look down on Bucky in contempt. “Hydra House expects each of its Omegas to live up to a certain standard of behavior. As the eldest, you are expected to be a model for those coming behind you. If you will not provide an example of proper Omega behavior for them, then you will provide an example of the consequences of failure. Do I make myself clear?”

Bucky found himself in the punishment yard at least once a month, favored resident of the House or no. Hydra House had many creative punishments at its disposal, and Bucky had experienced most of them. He had stood on the platform with his sign of shame in the cold for hours on end, until it seemed he was frozen through. Had bit down on the mouth guard and screamed through the pain of an electric flogging -- the electric flogger being a particular design of the house, one that would leave no marks on an Omega’s delicate skin. Had been forced to recite the Tenants of Omega Obedience over and over until his throat was raw and the words echoed in his skull so loudly it seemed he couldn’t hear anything else. _An Omega does not question his betters. An Omega is seen but not heard. An Omega obeys his Alpha, his Head, and his Guardian without question or delay._

The direct look Schmidt gave him seemed to suggest that all these punishments would be trivial by comparison to what would happen if Bucky didn’t toe the line. He bit his lip and cast his eyes down. “I understand, sir.”

“Good.” Schmidt was silent for a long moment, studying Bucky thoughtfully. Bucky tried not to shiver or cringe; _an Omega accepts his punishment with grace_. “Your access to the garage and the library are revoked until further notice. Perhaps if you spend more time in proper Omega pursuits, you will be less inclined to forget your place.”

A protest rose up in Bucky’s throat. He’d rather be flogged again than give up his few hobbies. But arguing now would not change Schmidt’s mind, and in fact might earn Bucky a flogging in _addition_ to the restrictions. He swallowed back his argument and kept his eyes low. “Yes sir.”

“You may return to your duties,” Schmidt said, dismissing him.

Bucky’s Guardian, Jasper Sitwell, was waiting for Bucky outside Schmidt’s office. “Well?”

“No garage and no library,” Bucky reported, because there was no point in trying to hide it. Every Guardian in the building would know before the hour was out. He didn’t repeat the rest of Schmidt’s speech.

“Well, thank god for that,” Sitwell said. He hated lurking in the garage, watching Bucky tinker with the car engines, almost as much as he hated having to sit silently in the library while Bucky read. “You need to get changed. Mr. Pierce is on his way.”

Something unpleasant turned over in Bucky’s stomach. Alexander Pierce had been a regular visitor to Hydra House over the years, and of late, his visits left Bucky feeling greasy and unclean. But Pierce was an Alpha’s Alpha, a high-ranking politician, and a patron of the House, so there was nothing Bucky could do but hope his eye wandered elsewhere. And soon, before Bucky became officially eligible for courting.

***

“James,” Pierce greeted him.

It was supposed to be _Ser Barnes_ , but Sitwell didn’t correct the intimacy. He just leaned against the parlor wall to watch.

Mindful that Sitwell was there as much to enforce Bucky’s behavior as Pierce’s, Bucky succumbed to the rules of politeness and offered Pierce his hand. “Mister Pierce,” he returned.

Pierce cupped Bucky’s hand in his and breathed in the scent at Bucky’s wrist, the ancient gesture graceful and proper, yet somehow repugnant. “I’m delighted that you’re free to accept my call.”

“Head Schmidt asked me to tend to you while he finishes up some business,” Bucky said. He went to the bar and poured a measure of whiskey. He wasn’t sure which was worse, Pierce’s hungry gaze or Sitwell’s critical one. “I’m not allowed callers, yet.” Not until the Reception in two weeks.

Then, Bucky would be fair game for every unattached Alpha in the city. And eventually, he’d be bonded to one of them. It was that or remain unbonded, at the mercy of the House. An Omega’s options were strictly limited.

“Soon enough,” Pierce said, waving away the formality of the Reception. He stepped close, and Bucky had to steel himself not to step back. Pierce ran a proprietary finger along Bucky’s jaw. “You’ll be ready to accept my calls, then, won’t you, James?”

Bucky had to suppress a shudder. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Pierce intended to court him -- the House had been throwing them together since Bucky was sixteen, and Bucky had long since noticed that his wardrobe had become full of clothes in Pierce’s favored colors. But still, to hear the intention stated so baldly was... distressing.

Bucky groped after his protocol lessons. “It’s not up to me,” he demurred. “That’s for the House to decide.”

“True,” Pierce said. He cupped Bucky’s chin in his hand, tipping Bucky’s face upward. “But do you know, I believe the House will not deny me.”

“Sir,” Sitwell said, a cautious warning.

Pierce released Bucky and stepped back again. “All in good time, eh James? It wouldn’t do for us to get ahead of ourselves.”

“No, sir.” Bucky took a breath and tried to tell himself that it was no easier than it had been with Pierce leaning into his space. He should be grateful for Pierce’s attention, he knew -- he could certainly be saddled with worse suitors: Alphas who were vicious and cruel, who thought Omegas shouldn’t be permitted speech, who didn’t believe Omegas were even fully human. Pierce was even a handsome specimen of an Alpha But there was something about Pierce that was unsettling.

Head Schmidt’s secretary came in then. “Mr. Pierce, the Head will see you now.”

Pierce tossed back the rest of his whiskey and handed the tumbler to Bucky. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he promised.

***

Tony threw himself onto the couch in his office. “The Board is at me again, Pep,” he complained.

“They might have a point,” Pepper observed. She pulled up a screen and began sorting the various presentations into their division folders. She didn’t bother to ask what the Board was after Tony about. She knew. She always knew. “An Alpha of your stature--”

“There’s one Omega for every three Alphas, according to the last census,” Tony said. “That means two out of every three Alphas is unbonded.”

“You’re unpredictable,” Pepper said, ignoring his grumbling, which was why he paid her. That, and because she did more of the work of running his company than he did. He’d have given her his title of CEO years ago except that no Board of Directors in the country would accept a Beta CEO. And even if they did, half their partner companies would drop them like a hot potato. It would be even more disastrous than when Tony had about-faced the entire company philosophy and started chasing green energy initiatives. “The Board thinks having an Omega would settle you down a little,” Pepper continued.

“Shows what they know,” Tony grumbled. “My old man got _more_ erratic after he bonded Mom, not less.”

“It’s a superstition,” Pepper agreed, “but most Alphas in your position are bonded. Or at the very _least_ , have a Beta spouse.”

“You could marry me,” Tony suggested.

“Not even for half your fortune,” Pepper returned easily. “I know how much of you I can stand, and that is well beyond the threshold.”

“But you want to saddle some unfortunate Omega with me?”

“It’s the Board,” she reminded him, “not me. I’m just saying that they might have a point. It would look good if you’d at least _pretend_ to try.”

“That seems unnecessarily cruel.” Tony picked up a decorative bookend and turned it over in his hands. “Tease them with the possibility and then disappear?”

“Make up your mind,” Pepper said. “Is it cruel and unusual punishment for this fictional Omega to have you, or not?” She took the bookend away from him and set it back in its place on the end table. “There’s a Reception next week. You could at least put in an appearance. Dance with a few Omegas, gladhand a few Alphas.”

Tony slumped further on the couch. “Do I have to?”

“It will keep the Board from telling _me_ to harass you about it, so I’m going with yes. Who knows; you might even find someone who tickles your fancy.”

“No one says that any more, Pepper.”

“I said it, just now.” She handed him a mug of coffee, a peace offering. “Is it really that terrible?”

Tony gulped down half the coffee with a grimace. “Maybe if I could find an Omega who was willing to have opinions in front of me. The Houses are supposed to be protective, but most of them are like these terrible Victorian finishing schools, churning out paper doll cutouts.”

“That sounds even worse for the Omegas than it does for you,” Pepper suggested. “Maybe you should take over a House and run it the right way.”

Tony snorted. “I can’t take over a House. I’m an unbonded Alpha. Do you know what kind of terrible press that would make?”

“Well, then we’re back to you finding yourself an Omega to bond,” she said sweetly. “But in the meantime, you have a meeting at two to get ready for.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

_It’s not bad,_ Bucky thought, _for a slave market_.

Sitwell would be appalled to hear it called that, of course. He’d get all pinch-mouthed, and lecture Bucky again about the honor of bonding. He’d remind Bucky how much better things were for Omegas, nowadays. Or he’d lift an eyebrow and wonder pointedly whether Bucky _wanted_ to go through another heat alone.

In point of fact: no, Bucky did _not_ want to endure another heat on his own, locked into a cell-like room to “protect” his virtue, burning with a need he was unable to satisfy on his own, no matter how desperate he got.

Or worst of all, Sitwell wouldn’t say anything until they’d returned to the House, and then he’d include it in the report to Head Schmidt, and Bucky would find himself in the punishment yard again.

That didn’t make the Reception seem any less like a slave market, albeit a posh one. A showroom for the local Houses to show off their eligible Omegas. In theory, the Reception introduced the formerly sheltered Omegas to society and the Alphas who were now free to court them. At least, that was how it had been explained to Bucky.

In practice, the Alphas, who vastly outnumbered the Omegas, were posturing and snarling at each other on one side of the room, seemingly dividing up the spoils amongst themselves before even approaching the Omegas clustered at the other side of the room with their Guardians.

Bucky had to admit, there was a certain fascinating allure to them. He’d never seen more than two Alphas in the same room together, and while they gripped hands and brokered deals amongst themselves, the scent of them was overwhelming as they each tried to out-Alpha the others.

Pierce wasn’t among them. Sitwell had told Bucky that before they’d even arrived -- that Pierce was far too important to waste his time on fripperies like this. But Bucky wasn’t to worry: once this formality was past, Pierce would be free to court him, even if they weren’t officially introduced tonight.

Bucky thought maybe Sitwell should bond with Pierce, if he thought so highly of the Alpha. Not that Sitwell could bond, being a Beta. Sometimes Bucky wondered if Sitwell had become a Guardian out of sheer jealousy.

He kept those thoughts to himself. Instead, he turned his gaze on his fellow Omegas, searching the elegantly-groomed heads for the golden-blond he remembered.

“What are you doing?” Sitwell hissed.

“Back when I was still at Brooklyn House,” Bucky said, distractedly, “I had a friend who was almost the same age as me. I was hoping to see him tonight.”

Sitwell’s face was like granite. “I’m sure the Head would be pleased to hear that you wasted this valuable opportunity socializing with other Omegas instead of doing your utmost to attract Alpha attention.” As threats went, it wasn’t even oblique. “You don’t quite have Pierce in the bag yet, you know. He’s patron to several Houses. He might always choose one of them.”

_Yes, please_ , Bucky thought.

“You need to have other options,” Sitwell was continuing.

Bucky doubted Sitwell’s concern was for Bucky himself, but for the gifts to the House -- and Guardian -- that it was traditional for courting Alphas to make. But he didn’t want Sitwell reporting back to Schmidt that he’d behaved poorly, either. Bucky was already in enough trouble. He dutifully turned his attention back to the Alphas, amusing himself by counting the number of smiles that grew wide enough to show off the long Alpha canines -- a threat display, rather than one of pleasure.

Bucky was beginning to wonder if another heat alone would, in fact, be all _that_ bad, when the Alphas began to move, as if by some pre-arranged and invisible signal. They crossed the vast floor and began, one by one, to present themselves to the Omegas.

The Alpha who approached Bucky first was tall, with snapping dark eyes and a military bearing. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing,” he purred, and his voice was low and gravely, resonating in Bucky’s stomach. Bucky wondered if the words were meant to mock Bucky’s own height, even as he offered his hand. The Alpha’s nose and mouth scraped across the skin of Bucky’s wrist, uninvited and far too intimate for an introduction. “I bet you’re just aching for a strong Alpha between your legs.”

“Mr. Rumlow,” said Sitwell repressively. “There’s no call to be crude.” He didn’t grant the Alpha -- Rumlow? -- Bucky’s name. Bucky supposed Rumlow didn’t meet Sitwell’s criteria of an acceptable Alpha.

“Just callin’ it like I see it,” Rumlow said. “You’re not doin’ these Omegas any favors, keepin’ ‘em shut away so they don’t even know what they’re made for.”

Bucky knew enough to know what Rumlow was referring to. “I know I’m made for more than _that_ ,” he snapped, roughly pulling his hand free from Rumlow’s grasp.

“James,” Sitwell hissed.

“Well said,” put in a new voice. “Move along, Rumlow. This one’s not for you.”

“And I suppose he’s for you, instead?” Rumlow sneered.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he turned toward the interloper. Not just any Alpha, but _Tony Stark_. He was smaller in person than Bucky would have thought, an inch or so shorter than Bucky, whose height had been the despair of the House. But it didn’t matter; he was Alpha enough to overwhelm even without looming, a solid air of authority and control that made Bucky feel suddenly weak in the knees. More than that, he was _gorgeous_ , olive skin and whiskey eyes and impeccable grooming.

“Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it? He might not care for me, either,” Mr. Stark said. As if Bucky’s opinion in the matter was more than a formality. Mr. Stark smiled blandly at Rumlow -- not even showing his teeth -- until Rumlow snorted and moved away. “There,” Mr. Stark said, “I can breathe easier already.” He looked at Bucky directly, then, and his smile widened into something that looked genuine. “May I have the honor?”

Belatedly, in something of a daze, Bucky offered his hand. Mr. Stark cupped Bucky’s hand and bent over it, breath puffing warm over Bucky’s skin. Rumlow’s overfamiliar touch had been disturbing, but Bucky found himself wondering what it would feel like if Mr. Stark were to do it, the delicate and delectable scrape of that carefully-trimmed beard on the inside of his wrist, soothed by the soft press of lips. Bucky suppressed a shiver.

Mr. Stark wasn’t so crass, though. He scented Bucky’s wrist without touching it, and then took another, slightly deeper breath before releasing Bucky’s hand. He looked up again, and his eyes were dark. “Lovely,” he said, though whether he was referring to Bucky’s scent or Bucky’s face or some other thing was anyone’s guess.

“Mr. Stark,” said Sitwell, sounding half-dazed himself, “this is Ser James Barnes, of Hydra House.”

“A delight,” Mr. Stark said, and Bucky could almost believe that it was more than an idle pleasantry. “Do you like to dance, Ser Barnes?”

“Love to,” Bucky answered, and was relieved not to have to lie. Some of the House lessons were a nuisance, but Bucky liked dancing, even only with the other Omegas. A sudden impulse made him ask, “Do you?”

Sitwell wanted to chide him for his impertinence, Bucky could tell, but didn’t dare while Mr. Stark stood there.

Mr. Stark seemed to understand; his eyes twinkled as he said, “Tolerably well.” He offered an arm. “Would you care to accompany me?” He never looked at Sitwell, as though permission were a given. As though Bucky’s wishes were what mattered.

Bucky glanced at his Guardian and received a somewhat resigned nod, so he somewhat nervously put his hand on Mr. Stark’s arm. “Yes, thank you.”

The dance teacher had promised that it would be _different_ , dancing with an Alpha instead of another Omega, but she hadn’t been able to explain why. Bucky understood, finally, as Mr. Stark took Bucky in his arms and steered them across the dance floor. Mr. Stark’s Alpha scent was a heady cloud around them that seemed to make the rest of the room unimportant, almost irrelevant. He smelled like metal and coconut, and Bucky tried not to imagine being wrapped in that scent during a heat. _It’s only a dance,_ he told himself sternly.

Bucky feared for a moment that it wouldn’t even be that, because all the steps had fled from his memory. But Mr. Stark turned and Bucky followed without even thinking about it, and it all came flooding back.

“I liked the way you shut down Rumlow,” Mr. Stark said. “Not many Omegas would have the courage for that. He’s been known to stare down other Alphas.”

“Not you,” Bucky noted.

Mr. Stark waved that away. “I’ve faced down bigger bullies than him.”

Bucky laughed. “I had a friend once who would like you. Steve. We were at Brooklyn House together, before I moved to Hydra.” His laughter died into a wistful smile. “I kind of miss him. He hated bullies, too.”

“All right-thinking people should dislike bullies,” Mr. Stark agreed. “If I happen to run into him, I’ll tell him you send your regards. Tell me, Ser Barnes, what do you like to do for fun?”

Bucky was supposed to answer with something inane and Omega-appropriate, he knew. Decorating or playing an instrument or reading. Gardening, perhaps. If he felt very daring, he could admit to playing cards. But his Guardian was standing by the wall, out of earshot, and Bucky couldn’t seem to help speaking the truth. “I like cars. The engines.”

Mr. Stark nearly stumbled in surprised, though his recovery was smooth enough. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“I grew up with them. The House has a few cars,” Bucky explained, though he could feel the back of his neck heating, “but they’re older. I used to sit and watch while they were being maintained. The House mechanic at Brooklyn used to let Steve and me watch and help out a little. I don’t get to help as much at Hydra, but sometimes...” Bucky shrugged. “It’s interesting, is all.”

“You’re interesting,” Mr. Stark countered. “I like that. Tell me about these cars, then, and what kind of things you do with them.”

Bucky talked about the old Ford and the somewhat newer Toyota. Mr. Stark seemed actually interested, and so Bucky talked about the garage where his father had worked, where Bucky had spent long, fascinated hours before he’d presented as an Omega and been sent to Brooklyn House. It didn’t hurt as much as it once had, having been torn away from the life he’d expected as a child, but it came with a certain nostalgic ache.

Then Bucky asked Mr. Stark when the Stark Industries Green Initiative was going to produce power supplies for vehicles, and instead of responding with a simplified elevator pitch or a press-ready quip, Mr. Stark launched into a technical overview of the differences between the green energy batteries they were already producing and the sort of power supplies needed for street-ready vehicles, with a couple of side forays into the business and politics of the situation.

The whole time they were talking, Mr. Stark kept leading the dance, and Bucky kept following, and it felt like magic, especially when Mr. Stark’s thumb began to rub idly against the soft satin panel on the back of Bucky’s vest. It was distracting, and Bucky couldn’t tell if Mr. Stark knew he was doing it.

It was almost like Mr. Stark was honestly interested in Bucky’s thoughts. Almost as if Bucky was a person and not a plaything. Almost as if the rest of the room had disappeared around them.

But then the music changed and Mr. Stark stepped back a pace, drawing the dance to an end. He kept one hand at Bucky’s back as he brought Bucky back to Sitwell, and it lingered for a moment as he thanked Bucky for the dance.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sitwell murmured as Mr. Stark walked away. “He comes to these things because it’s a duty, not because he’s looking to complete his household. If he wanted an Omega, he’d have found one years ago.”

It ached, to hear it aloud, even though Bucky already knew that. He followed the news as closely as an Omega could. “It was just a dance,” he said, squashing down the sense of disappointment.

He might not be for the likes of Rumlow, but he wasn’t for Tony Stark, either.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky lay in his narrow bed and stared at the ceiling. He was officially eligible, now. Any of the Alphas who’d danced with him last night might come calling.

The handsome man with the ready laugh, who’d seemed more interested in the buffet line than the dance floor. The red-haired woman with the mysterious smile who’d challenged Bucky to lead the dance, since he was so much taller than her. Mr. Stark...

Bucky cut that thought off ruthlessly.

Pierce would come, too. Bucky had little doubt of that. He would have gifts in hand, and Sitwell would let even more liberties pass.

Pierce was going to be his future. He should resign himself to it, make his peace with it. It could be worse.

(It could be so much better.) A whiff of metal and coconut lingered in his imagination, and he closed his eyes. _It was only a dance_.

The door to his room opened. Sitwell, of course. “You’re still in bed?” Sitwell demanded. “Get up, get up. You’ll have a visitor soon.”

“Mr. Pierce?” Bucky guessed.

“At a guess,” Sitwell said. “Someone made a donation to the House this morning.”

“Anonymously?” That didn’t seem like Pierce at all.

“So it would seem. Get up and get dressed. You’ll be in the receiving room within the next fifteen minutes.”

“But I haven’t eaten yet,” Bucky protested.

“Should have thought of that before deciding to have a layabout morning,” Sitwell shot back, a touch smugly. “No Alpha wants to watch you eating.” He stalked out, leaving the door open.

Bucky groaned and rolled out of bed, and let momentum carry him to the bathroom. Sitwell was being petty; no self-respecting Alpha was going to show up before breakfast.

By the time Bucky had hastily cleaned up and dressed and made his way to the receiving room -- fourteen minutes on the nose -- there was a giant vase of flowers on the table, Bucky’s name prominently written on the card. The smell of them made his nose itch as he tugged the card free.

_Sorry to disappoint, darling, but important business calls me away for a few days. I’ll call when I’m back. --A. Pierce_

Bucky told himself that he was not relieved at the reprieve, but a knot in his gut eased, just a little.

“They arrived with a donation for the House,” Sitwell told him, looking sour.

“So if he didn’t make the donation this morning, who did?”

“I expect we’ll find out.”

No one came. For the first hour, Bucky was merely annoyed that he’d been forced to skip breakfast for no reason. For the next hour, he was bored. And then restless. And then restlessly bored. He wanted to get up and pace. Or give up on waiting and go _do_ something.

He was debating whether it would get him into trouble to suggest they go have lunch when the bell rang.

“Wait here,” Sitwell told him, and left.

Bucky was tempted to get up, to go to the door and listen, at least. He made himself sit still and stare at the flowers Pierce had sent. Their scent had been cloying for a while, but now it seemed muted and bland.

The door opened again and Sitwell gave Bucky a narrow-eyed appraisal before he pushed through, followed closely by Tony Stark.

Bucky stared in surprise for an endless moment before he remembered himself and bobbed to his feet. “Mr. Stark!”

“Ser Barnes,” Mr. Stark said, rocking back on his heels. He sounded surprised, as if he had genuinely thought Bucky might not see him. “How delightful to see you again. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long; I was detained with business.”

Bucky felt something like hope surge through him. “Not very long,” he lied. “And of course you have to take care of your business. What brings you to Hydra House?”

Mr. Stark scoffed. “Are we playing this game, really?” He glanced at Sitwell, then rolled his eyes. “I wonder if you might do me the honor of having lunch with me,” he said. “I’d like to continue the conversation we began last night.”

That jumped script a little; he was supposed to suggest something more innocuous for a first outing -- a stroll through the park, or a visit to a museum or garden. Sharing a meal was rather more intimate. Bucky expected Sitwell to object, and nearly stumbled when only silence floated over his shoulder. “I would... would love to,” he said, resolutely not looking back to see whether Sitwell would glare.

Mr. Stark visibly lit up at that -- had he really expected any other response? -- and offered Bucky his arm. “My car’s just outside.” He glanced briefly at Sitwell. “And you, of course. This way.”

Of course Bucky couldn’t go anywhere without his Guardian -- but Mr. Stark helped Bucky into the passenger seat of the car and left Sitwell to climb into the back seat alone.

The lunch was another surprise -- a private dining room and a table set for two. A separate table had been set for Sitwell, close enough to maintain propriety, but far enough that some low-voiced conversation might remain private. It was enough to make Bucky’s spine prickle with the spark of excitement.

He hated that it thrilled him, that he was so willing to sell himself into bondage, but Mr. Stark’s scent still haunted him, and each gentle touch, and that wicked, mischievous smile.

“There,” Mr. Stark said, when they’d all been seated and the first course served. “Have I properly observed all the forms?”

“Mr. Stark?”

He huffed a little, covered it with a sip of soup. “We both know what the end game is, here. I’ll observe all the niceties, but you didn’t strike me as the indecisive sort. You can tell me now, if you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away.”

Bucky looked down into his soup. “We both know that if you’ve made your choice, then that’s the end of the matter. None of the other Alphas who were there last night will challenge you.” Pierce might, but Pierce was away. It gave Mr. Stark a leg up. Bucky didn’t know whether to be hopeful or fearful.

“You might be surprised,” Mr. Stark said. “But I don’t want to bond someone who resents me, or worse. If you say you don’t like the idea, I won’t press. On my honor.”

Bucky swallowed. When had _his_ choice ever mattered? The House might have been grooming him for Pierce, but they wouldn’t turn away Tony Stark, and all the money that represented. “Why me?”

Mr. Stark smiled, as if he were pleased. “Because you didn’t simper at me and try to tell me what I wanted to hear. Most of those Alphas, they want an ornament or a trophy or a, well.”

“A sex toy,” Bucky muttered, barely loud enough to carry across the table.

“Yes,” Mr. Stark said, mouth twisting. “But so many Omegas, all they want is to be free from their House, or to have a high-status Alpha, or just someone to carry them through their heats.”

“Because that’s all we’re _allowed_ to want,” Bucky said, setting his jaw.

“You want more,” Mr. Stark pointed out. “And you’re not afraid to say so. You stood up to Rumlow’s filth.”

Bucky had been terrified, to tell the truth. He’d just been more angry than frightened. But if that was what Mr. Stark wanted from him... “You want an Omega who won’t lean on you for every little thing,” Bucky surmised. “Someone who can act independently, on their own. As much as the law allows, anyway.”

“That’s about the size of it,” Mr. Stark admitted. “I’m not very good at romance. I’m sorry for that. But I can promise I’ll treat you decently, and that you’ll never want for anything.”

Bucky considered Mr. Stark from under his eyelashes. “What if what I want is romance?”

Mr. Stark actually laughed at that, low but full of genuine amusement. “I like that you’re testing me,” he said. “I can’t claim to know what they teach you, in Hydra House, but it’s not to hold out for romance.”

“Do you know what they tell us, about bonding?” Bucky said. “They say that bonding will make our Alphas need to care for us, to treat us well. That it will make them love us. I’m not stupid enough to believe that fairy tale.”

“From what I’ve heard, there’s a certain protective instinct that’s very real,” Mr. Stark said. “I don’t know if I’d call it _love_.”

“Possessiveness,” Bucky hazarded, and Mr. Stark didn’t disagree. That didn’t guarantee an Omega would be treated well, by any stretch. Bucky took another bite of soup, and thought about the scent of metal and coconut and the way Mr. Stark’s eyes had crinkled at the corners when he laughed. The way Mr. Stark had looked at him, as if he were _real_.

He’d been flattered when Pierce started paying attention to him, too.

“What if I change my mind?”

“Well, that’s your prerogative,” Mr. Stark said. He pushed away his soup bowl and leaned back in his chair, eyeing Bucky sharply, like a rival Alpha. “Up until bonding, at least. Once that’s done... we’re stuck with each other.”

Take a chance, or cling to the devil he knew? Bucky finished his soup in silence, but he already knew how he’d choose. “Okay,” he said, setting his spoon aside. “Okay. Yes, I’m... I’m on board.”

“Good,” said Mr. Stark. “Great. I’d offer to shake on it but your Guardian would probably call me out for unnecessary touching.”

Bucky was startled into a laugh. “Possibly. He’s very strict about the rules. I’m a little surprised he allowed this.”

“I’m very persuasive, when I want to be,” Mr. Stark said, sly.

“I have no doubt of that, Mr. Stark,” Bucky said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Do you think I could persuade _you_ to call me Tony?”

Something fluttered in Bucky’s chest, but Sitwell was watching, so Bucky shook his head. “Before the bonding is announced? Not in the slightest. If this goes through, everyone will need to know I’m good and proper and not some cheap floozy you picked up to make fun of the whole thing. People will want to know you’re taking it seriously.”

Pierce had never offered Bucky the use of his first name, even though he made free with Bucky’s. Was that because he knew Bucky wouldn’t use it, or because he enjoyed that extra formality and power?

Mr. Stark -- _Tony_ ; surely he could be Tony in Bucky’s thoughts -- just smiled warmly. “And you’re already looking out for me. I knew I chose well.”

  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony was back the very next day, not long after lunch. He presented the House with a donation, gave Sitwell a new phone, and offered to take Bucky on a walk through Central Park. Bucky had been to the little park that was just up the street from Hydra House, but never Central Park. It was hard to imagine such a large, green place in the middle of the city.

There were hundreds of other people out -- jogging or walking their dogs, families having picnics, kids clambering over the play areas. They stopped to listen to a musician playing a guitar, and again to watch a painter who was trying to capture a scene in watercolors. There was a class happening on one green stretch -- yoga or tai chi, Bucky wasn’t sure which. The participants looked calm and serene, their feet bare in the grass.

Bucky craned his neck like the greenest tourist, trying to take in everything at once. Tony watched him with undisguised amusement. “I come past here nearly every week,” he said. “I’m jaded. It’s nice to see it through fresh eyes.” Behind them, Sitwell made some kind of noise, but he didn’t say anything, half his attention on the new phone. Bucky wondered if that had been Tony’s intent.

Most of the people out were Betas, of course, but Bucky caught the scent of an Alpha, from time to time, and a trio of bonded Omegas were watching over children at one playground. Bucky watched them surreptitiously as they passed, wondering if they were content, or even happy. One of them spotted him and gave him a wink and a nod with a small smile. Bucky felt a small thrill at that, as if he was part of something bigger than himself, something that no House or Alpha could take from him.

They were strolling idly up one bush-lined path when another courting pair came from the other direction. Bucky recognized the Alpha -- the short, red-headed female who’d told Bucky to lead their dance at the Reception. He didn’t know the Omega, even smaller -- and then, abruptly, he did.

Bucky stumbled over his own feet, and Tony caught his arm, solicitous. “All right? What happened?” He glanced around, and startled at the approaching couple. “Oh! I’ve been trying to talk to Ms. Romanov for a month. You’ll forgive me, won’t you, if I snare her for ten minutes to talk business? It’s dreadfully boorish of me, I know.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky agreed, unable to tear his eyes from the other Omega. “Of course it’s fine.”

“Wonderful,” Tony said. He squeezed Bucky’s arm a little. “You just have a pleasant chat with her companion for a few minutes. I swear, this won’t take long.” He released Bucky and strode forward, planting himself in the couple’s path. The Alphas exchanged a low-voiced murmur, and then stepped to one side of the walkway to chat out of range.

The other Omega was staring at Bucky with wide eyes. “Bucky? Is that you?”

“Steve,” Bucky breathed. He didn’t dare glance back at Sitwell. He already knew what Sitwell and the House would say: he was here at an Alpha’s sufferance, and should be attending that Alpha. But Tony had excused himself and stepped away. Surely that freed Bucky of that obligation until Tony had returned. “Steve, it’s... it’s good to see you.”

Steve closed the distance between them and pulled Bucky into a tight hug, heedless of their clothes.

Sitwell cleared his throat pointedly, but Steve’s Guardian, a sandy-haired man, made a rude sound. “Oh, they’re not doing anything wrong,” he said. “It’s a nice day; let it go. Hey, is that the new Stark phone?”

“Steve,” Bucky choked, and blinked back tears. He put his hands on Steve’s shoulders and pushed back enough to look at him. “You’re okay?”

“Me?” Steve said. “What about _you_. God, I was so worried when they--”

“Hey, shh, don’t worry about that now, Stevie,” Bucky said. “I’m okay. I’m doin’ great.” That probably stretched the truth a little, but Steve would understand, and Sitwell wouldn’t. “I didn’t think you’d ever let yourself be courted.”

Steve hesitated, glanced briefly over Bucky’s shoulder, and then shrugged. “It all depends on the person doing the courting, I guess,” he said. “What about you? Tony Stark, that’s quite the catch. Is he treating you okay?” Steve looked ready to charge over and punch Tony in the face if Bucky said anything negative.

Bucky scoffed. “Same old Stevie, always worried about everyone else instead of himself,” he said. And looking in the wrong direction, anyway. Bucky intended to keep it that way. “It’s good, Steve. It’s... it’s real good.”

Whether it would remain good when Pierce got back was... well. If any Alpha could successfully challenge Pierce, it would be Tony.

“We should stay in touch,” Steve said.

Bucky blinked at him. How were they supposed to do that? Unbonded Omegas didn’t leave their Houses without an escort, and Bucky’s access to electronics was strictly limited.

“You don’t have a phone?” Steve guessed, glancing at Sitwell again.

“No, of course not.”

“Of... course not,” Steve echoed. His jaw worked, like it always did when he was contemplating something stupid.

“Stevie, don’t--” Bucky caught his breath by the tail. “I don’t want you to be in trouble with your House,” he said carefully. “Maybe when we’re bonded, we’ll see each other then.”

Sitwell coughed. “You’ll be too busy attending your Alphas for this sort of wasteful socializing,” he said firmly.

Steve’s mouth set in a flat line, and his hands curled into fists. “What a crock,” he snapped. “It’s not--”

“C’mon, man, not today,” Steve’s Guardian sighed. He hooked Steve’s arm and pulled him back a few paces. “It’s a nice day.”

“Clint, did you _hear_ that bullshit?”

“I heard it,” the Guardian said. “House rules, Steve.”

“If Stark thinks he’s going to--”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted, “Stevie, calm down, okay? I’m okay.” He recalled the three Omegas watching their children, and took a breath. Just because Sitwell was parroting the House line, didn’t mean Bucky had to swallow it. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Well, obviously we missed some excitement,” Tony said. Bucky jumped; he hadn’t even noticed the Alphas returning from their chat. “Sorry to have missed it.”

“It was nothing,” Bucky said quickly. He cast a quelling look at Steve, who still looked stubborn.

Tony looked amused. “You recalls Ms. Romanov, don’t you?”

“Thank you for your patience, Ser Barnes,” Ms. Romanov said, smiling charmingly at them both. “Ser Rogers, did you still want to go to the museum?”

Steve hesitated, obviously tempted to continue defending Bucky. Bucky shuffled a little closer to Tony, trying to send Steve messages with his eyes. _Go. Pay attention to your suitor, not me._ “Yes,” Steve said, finally. “Thank you.” He caught Bucky’s eye, jaw still tight with belligerence. “I’ll see you,” he said, a promise Bucky had no doubt he intended to keep.

Bucky didn’t respond, and they stood on the path, watching as Ms. Romanov led Steve away, Clint trailing behind them, slump-shouldered and relaxed.

“Well, that was a fortuitous meeting,” Tony said.

“Did your business go well?” Bucky asked politely.

“Well, I thought so, at first,” Tony said, “but I suppose that remains to be seen.” He was watching Bucky with a small smile.

“Wait,” Bucky said. “Did you... Did you _arrange_ that?”

“Not at all,” Tony said, but his eyes flicked to Sitwell and back. Things that couldn’t be said with the House’s representative listening in. “I’m delighted that you were able to connect with your friend, of course, but I’d been wanting to speak with Ms. Romanov.”

“Of course,” Bucky said, and shook his head. “Just a coincidence.”

“Exactly,” Tony said. That small smile was lingering, though. “We should get you back, before your Head wonders if I’ve tossed your Guardian out of the car and run off with you.”

The slow loop back toward the car wasn’t nearly as exciting as the walk in had been, but Bucky found himself more aware of Tony walking at his side, of the heat rolling off Tony’s body, of that Alpha scent surrounding them. Tony was a presence that no one could ignore. Certainly not Bucky.

Not for the first time, Bucky remembered the way Tony had held him as they danced, that tantalizing stroke of Tony’s thumb across his back. The soft puff of Tony’s breath over his skin. He wondered if Tony would taste of metal and coconut, and then immediately pushed the thought away, before his neck could heat and give him away.

“You’re very quiet,” Tony observed in the car. “Everything all right?”

“Yes,” Bucky said quickly. “Yes, of course, I’m just...” Sitwell was listening. “...Enjoying myself,” he finished.

“Nothing wrong with quiet,” Tony said. “Or so my assistant tells me. I wouldn’t know, myself. Personally, I never shut up.”

That was patently untrue; Tony had listened with great patience whenever Bucky had been talking, and they had walked in comfortable silence for much of the afternoon. “I think you talk when you have something worth saying,” Bucky told him. “I’m happy to listen.”

Tony looked at him sidelong, and smiled. “I think you might mean that,” he said.

When they reached the House, Tony walked him to the door. He looked at Sitwell, then refocused on Bucky, and for a moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of them. Bucky offered his hand, and Tony’s thumb stroked across Bucky’s wrist with slow, deliberate care.

It was like a line of fire on his skin, that gentle touch, and Bucky wanted to go to his knees on the sidewalk and beg Tony to touch him again. Tony’s eyes caught his, and Bucky felt the heat climbing his collar, suspecting, _knowing_ , that Tony understood what that touch had done to him.

Tony bent and breathed in Bucky’s scent, perfectly proper, giving Sitwell nothing to cough or grumble about. “I hope you’ll consent to see me again soon,” he said.

“Yes,” Bucky breathed, without thinking. “Yes, please.”

Tony smiled, then released Bucky’s hand and turned back toward the street. Bucky would have watched until he was gone, but Sitwell was already tugging him toward the door.

“Ah, Ser Barnes,” Head Schmidt said as they came in. Bucky nearly froze in shock; Schmidt rarely left his office during the day. “I trust you had a satisfactory afternoon.”

It wasn’t really a question. “Yes, sir,” Bucky said anyway, unable to entirely suppress the smile tugging at his lips.

“Mr. Pierce was distressed that you were not available, when he called,” Schmidt continued. “I assured him that you would be pleased to attend him tomorrow.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe, now that it was official and they would be going out into the public eye, Pierce would behave properly. Bucky wasn’t holding out a lot of hope, but he knew he should give Pierce the same chance he’d give any courting Alpha.

Pierce arrived exactly on time. He pushed past Sitwell and into the parlor instead of letting Sitwell lead him in, impatient and perhaps a little suspicious. He barely glanced at Bucky, then turned to offer an envelope for the House to Sitwell, and then a second envelope. “That one’s for you, Jasper. Being a Guardian is such a thankless task, isn’t it?”

Sitwell tucked the envelope away with a pleased smile. “It’s a labor of love, Mr. Pierce.”

Bucky could barely contain his choke of disbelief. Love of money, maybe. Love of ordering Bucky around with subtle threats.

Pierce spotted the vase on the side table with his flowers in it, and went to arrange the flowers fussily, withdrawing one that had begun to wilt. Only when he’d dropped the spent blossom into the trash did he acknowledge Bucky, who was still standing in the center of the room. “James.”

“Mr. Pierce,” Bucky said. He didn’t want to, but protocol dictated that he offer his hand.

Pierce took it and pressed his lips briefly to Bucky’s wrist. It didn’t give Bucky the same thrill that Tony’s touch had, but an altogether different sort shudder. “You’re looking quite well.”

“Why, thank you, James. How kind of you.” He looked Bucky over possessively, but didn’t offer a return compliment. His smile didn’t reach his eyes at all.

Bucky wondered if it had always been that way, and he was only now noticing because he could compare Pierce’s thin curve of lips to Tony’s broad grin and the crinkles at the corners of those warm brown eyes.

Pierce’s eyes were pale blue, like frosted glass. “I have tickets for the theater,” he said. “A matinee showing. We should leave now or we risk being late.”

Theater was well beyond the pale for early courtship -- certainly far too much for a first outing -- but Sitwell didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.

Pierce put an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and propelled him toward the door. “Come now, James.”

Pierce didn’t help Bucky into the car the way Tony had. Pierce didn’t speak to him in the car, either. It wasn’t the easy silence Bucky’d had with Tony, but something thick and pregnant with expectation. Bucky watched the city pass outside the windows and kept his breathing shallow. Pierce smelled like leather and cologne, and in the confines of the car, it was far too strong.

In the theater, Bucky expected Sitwell to insist on taking the seat between them, but Sitwell just shooed Bucky down the row after Pierce. “I’m not going to let you sit next to some _stranger_ ,” he said.

Bucky might have preferred that. Almost as soon as the lights went down, Pierce’s hand was resting on Bucky’s thigh, a light touch that nevertheless made it difficult to focus on the play.

At least the play didn’t require much focus. Bucky hadn’t seen many plays before, but he’d read plenty of them in Hydra House’s small library, and it wasn’t hard to guess the plot of this one: an Omega determined to live Alpha-less who kept running into obstacles and hardships. The only question was whether the Omega would die for their temerity, or reform and be rewarded with the care of a forgiving Alpha.

It was a common enough plot, from what little Bucky had seen. But Bucky couldn’t help but feel it was a little unsubtle. Pierce could just as easily have chosen a show where the Omega was an afterthought, a reward for the triumphant Alpha hero.

When the intermission came, Pierce waved Bucky back down. “No, no, don’t get up on my account. I just want to stretch a little.” Pierce stood and stretched, and then started a conversation with the people sitting behind them. He stood even closer to Bucky than the seating allowed, practically leaning over Bucky, his crotch level with Bucky’s face.

Bucky shot Sitwell an imploring look, but Sitwell just raised his eyebrows. “He’s just being protective,” Sitwell said under his breath. “Because it’s so crowded in here. It’s an Alpha thing.”

Bucky couldn’t help thinking that Tony hadn’t loomed over Bucky like this. He couldn’t help imagining it, either, and finding his mental reaction more forgiving, the touch much less odious. Maybe it was just that he didn’t care much for Pierce’s cologne.

When Pierce finally sat back down, his hand went even higher on Bucky’s thigh than before. Bucky tried to shift away, but Pierce’s hand tightened. “Stay put,” he rumbled. “Look pretty for me.”

Bucky’s stomach turned over. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it.

Bucky couldn’t help thinking that Tony didn’t want an Omega to look pretty for him. He wanted an Omega who was capable and independent.

On the stage, the Omega died, tragic and beautiful, to wild applause.

***

“That must have been quite the treat for you,” Pierce said as they arrived back at Hydra House.

Bucky had to chew over his response for a moment to make it palatable. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It was an enlightening experience.”

Pierce didn’t seem quite satisfied with that answer, but he smiled gamely and put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders as they walked up the steps. Bucky had to fight the urge to shake him off. Instead of leaving Bucky at the door, Pierce followed them inside, nudging Bucky into the front parlor. “Jasper, give us a minute, would you?”

Bucky stared in shock as Sitwell retreated, leaving him alone with Pierce. “What--”

“Oh, he knows it’s just me,” Pierce said easily. “I’ve been coming around since you were sixteen, they all know me here. Jasper knows I won’t do anything. Well, much.”

Bucky took an involuntary step back. “Mr. Pierce...”

“Relax, James,” Pierce said. He looked both amused and hungry. A cat toying with its prey. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He closed in, backing Bucky up against the door. “You know, Head Schmidt and I go back quite a ways. He was ready to give you to me without even sending you to the Reception first.

“But I’m a man of the world, James. A planner. A bonded Omega, that’s a status symbol, it’s power. But you know what’s better than that?” Pierce paused expectantly.

Bucky licked his lips nervously, and Pierce watched the movement, pupils growing wider. “What?” Bucky managed to whisper.

Pierce pressed closer, until Bucky could feel the hard press of his body through their clothes, the thick line of Pierce’s cock against his hip. “An Omega that someone else _wanted_. That I took away from the competition.”

He backed away, just a little, and Bucky gasped for breath. “I hadn’t anticipated _Stark_ , of all people. But that will only make it sweeter when I take you away from him. So you go and have fun, you take his gifts and lead him on. But you don’t forget, in the end, you’re mine.”

Before Bucky could respond, Pierce lunged forward and caught Bucky’s mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue pushing through Bucky’s lips and teeth in a hard surge. Bucky’s heart raced with fear, his breath coming in gasps. Pierce caught Bucky’s lip in his teeth and bit, dragging his long canines across the tender underside. “Mine,” he growled, low and furious.

He stepped back and yanked at the door, sending Bucky staggering across the room. “Don’t forget, James,” he said, as pleasantly as if the last several minutes had never happened. “I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky wiped at his lip, checking for blood, and didn’t respond. The scent of Pierce’s cologne clung to him like a choking cloud.

Pierce’s smile grew sharp, and he nodded to Sitwell. “Jasper,” he said coolly. “Good day.”

Then he was gone. Bucky wiped at his mouth again, and shuddered at the remembered feel of Pierce’s body against his. “What happens if I choose Mr. Stark?” he wondered. Sitwell stared at him. “I have the right,” Bucky said, defensive. “Every Omega has the right to choose--”

“After everything Mr. Pierce has done for you? For the House?” Sitwell said. He shook his head. “You need to rethink your priorities, James.”

Bucky should have cringed at that, but no punishment could compare with what Pierce was going to do to him.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Head Schmidt came into the dining room where Bucky and the younger Omegas were having dinner. “Ser Barnes,” he said icily. “You will come with me now.”

Bucky could feel the eyes on him. It had already been an awkward dinner; word had spread through the House quickly about what Bucky had said. He was afraid to listen to the gossip, to find out whether the other Omegas had found out about the liberties Pierce had taken, as well, and what they thought about it. He swallowed his mouthful and put his napkin carefully next to his plate. “Yes, sir.” The others’ eyes followed him out of the room, but he kept his own gaze low.

Being summoned from dinner, and by Schmidt himself, couldn’t be good. It meant Schmidt meant to make an example of him. The others would look at him and see: this is what happens if you don’t accept the fate the House has decreed for you. This is what happens to the disobedient.

He wondered what it would be. The mildest possibility was that he’d be made to kneel on the wooden platform in the central yard with a sign to hold that described his crimes. “Ungrateful” or “Willful”. He’d been left on the platform before, until his legs gave out and he’d fallen. But that didn’t seem sufficient to Schmidt’s anger. Too passive. A beating, perhaps -- the electric lash didn’t leave marks, but seared agony straight down to the bone.

He was so busy wondering what punishment Schmidt would inflict on him that he almost didn’t notice when Schmidt’s steps stopped outside the infirmary. He glanced up in confusion. “What?”

Schmidt just pointed. Bucky paused for a second to gather himself, and opened the door.

Dr. Zola was waiting, a smarmy little man who seemed to think of the Omegas as test subjects rather than charges to be cared for. He was the one who’d invented the lash, presumably out of some concern that the House’s reputation would suffer if they turned over an Omega whose back had too many punishment scars. Zola smiled and simpered at Schmidt, and that was so unlike his usual brusque, distracted demeanor when Bucky had been in the infirmary before, that Bucky was unsettled.

The infirmary looked as it always had -- an examination table at one end, a small laboratory on the other. There was a curtain that could be drawn between the two, but Bucky had never seen it closed. The laboratory counter had one tall phial filled with pale pinkish liquid, and a condenser dripping something that looked like mint mouthwash into a beaker.

Zola patted the examination table. “Up here. I’m too old to be always bending over. Take off your shirt.”

Slowly, Bucky climbed up and unbuttoned his shirt. Zola was puttering around with a clipboard and entering something into his lab computer. Schmidt stood by the door like a guard, though his eyes remained fixed on Bucky.

Bucky shivered -- the infirmary was cold, much too cold to be sitting on a metal table with his shirt off.

Zola swooped in and prodded at Bucky, checking his eyes, his mouth, his throat. He even looked behind Bucky’s ears, for some reason. He checked Bucky’s temperature and pulse and oxygen and blood pressure. “Healthy enough,” Zola murmured, and went back to typing at his computer.

Bucky was confused. What was going on?

Zola came back again and scrubbed at Bucky’s arm with an alcohol wipe. “No infections,” he said brightly. “Wouldn’t want to contaminate the data.”

“What data?” Bucky asked.

Zola didn’t answer. He took a syringe from a box and filled it from the phial of pink liquid. Humming abstractedly, he stuck it in Bucky’s arm, and depressed the plunger. Then he took out a pocketwatch and stared at it intently.

“What was that?” Bucky asked.

Zola beamed at him. “Feel honored, boy,” he said. “You’re part of the process!”

Bucky began to feel warmer, not from Zola’s disconcerting words, but from somewhere in his chest. “I don’t... What’s going on?”

“You’re testing my latest formula!” Zola chirped. “A heat inducer!” He checked his pocketwatch, then stuck a thermometer into Bucky’s slack mouth, and pulled it out when it beeped. “Point three increase already!”

Bucky swiveled his head to stare at Schmidt, who was looking... satisfied. Smug. “You wished to avoid seeing Mr. Pierce tomorrow, did you not?” Schmidt said silkily. “If you are in heat seclusion, obviously, you will not be able to entertain your suitors. And in the meantime, you will have several days to consider your options, and the gratitude you owe both your suitors and your House.” He beckoned imperiously. “Come, I will see you to the seclusion chamber.”

Bucky felt feverish before they even reached the room, hotter than before his previous heats. “I think he got the dosage wrong,” Bucky said, legs trembling under his weight.

“No,” Schmidt said. “I told him to give you a double dose. You have spurned a guest of the House, and now you will face the consequences.” He opened the door to the seclusion room and gestured for Bucky to enter.

The heat seclusion rooms were always small and spartan and a little stuffy from the lack of windows and the specialized ventilation that kept the heat scent confined. But this room was sparse, bare -- stripped clean of even the usual meager comforts. The bed was a mattress on a cold metal frame, only a single blanket folded across its foot. No sheets or pillows. No books or magazines to try to distract himself with. Several bottles of water waited on the small table. They weren’t enough, not if this heat was going to be as bad as it seemed. And there was no food. Bucky turned to look back at Schmidt in despair.

Schmidt smiled again, thin-lipped. “Perhaps when this door opens again, Ser Barnes, you will know how to appreciate an Alpha’s attentions.”

***

The first few hours weren’t so bad, just that feverish feeling, the warmth spreading from his chest down through the rest of his body. He felt a little hotter than the few natural heats he’d had before, and the sensation moved more quickly.

Maybe that meant it would run its course more quickly, too. Bucky could only hope.

He stripped -- it wouldn’t be long before the confinement of clothing was unbearable -- and laid on the bed, spreading the blanket over the thin mattress like a sheet. It would be best, he thought, if he could try to sleep through some of it.

There was no sleeping, though. The warmth was quickly chased by a prickling that crawled through his limbs and made him writhe in agony before it finally settled in his cock and his ass. It made him long to rub at the skin in a desperate attempt to relieve the sensation, but he knew better. It wouldn’t help, and would only speed up the process.

He clenched his hands in the blanket and gave in to the urge to move. He arched and wriggled and let his legs fall open, his body begging wordlessly for an Alpha to come and take him.

The prickling increased in intensity and Bucky stifled a sob. He held off as long as he could, but it couldn’t have been even another hour before he was grabbing at his cock, trying to rub away the prickling like a foot gone to sleep. Just as he’d known, it didn’t help.

He couldn’t seem to stop, though, once he’d started. His cock wasn’t even hard yet, but he couldn’t stop rubbing at it.

Soon -- too soon, oh, god -- the prickling faded into a single insistent throb. It didn’t quite match his heartbeat, and was too strong to be his imagination. He clenched down around it, and his ass felt gaping, empty. His cock swelled, grew hard, and harder, painfully hard.

The haze of need descended over his thoughts. He needed, needed so badly... He needed an Alpha’s touch, and Alpha’s scent surrounding him. “Alpha,” he whined, and no one replied.

He stroked his cock desperately, but there was no relief to be had. Bucky tossed his head from side to side, trying to clear it, trying to _think_. He wound up curled on his side like a comma, pushing two fingers into his ass, dry, sobbing because he couldn’t reach deep enough.

There was nothing here to help him. He was going to suffer like this for at least three days. He turned his head further against the wall and let himself gasp and sob.

The wall smelled of paint and the metal frame of the bed, and for a fraction of a second, Bucky felt the pressure of that throbbing need ease.

He did it again, breathing in the dust and oil smell of the old paint, the steely tang of the bed frame -- the scent of metal, he thought suddenly. It wasn’t really anything like Tony’s scent, but it was similar.

He pressed his face against the wall and curled his hand around his cock again. “Alpha,” he begged.

What would Tony say, do? He would... he would be kind, Bucky knew that. He wouldn’t leave Bucky in torment. Bucky imagined him there, pretended it was Tony’s hand on his cock, breathed in and tried to remember the scent of metal and coconut, tried to recall the rumble of Tony’s voice, the gentle way Tony had cupped Bucky’s hand.

“Alpha,” he pleaded again. “Alpha, please.”

_That’s it_ , Tony whispered in his ear. _You’re mine, Omega. I claim you._ Bucky bit at his lip, imagining Tony kissing him, claiming him, marking him. _Come for me, Omega. Come for me now_.

Almost. So close, so close to relief he could almost taste it. Copper tang on his lip where he’d worried through the skin with his teeth, and his cock already felt raw but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t. Each breath felt like he was gasping it through a straw into aching lungs, but in his head, Tony was still whispering. _You’re mine. Come for me._

Bucky whimpered and sobbed, and thought of Tony’s delighted laugh, the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the devastating way he’d smiled just at Bucky, as if Bucky made him _happy_. “Alpha.”

_That’s right, that’s it. Come for me._

Bucky writhed and came, spilling over his hand in ribbons.

It wouldn’t be enough; it _couldn’t_ be enough, not without an Alpha’s body chemistry in the mix, but for a moment, for a few blessed minutes, Bucky could think and breathe and _exist_ without that vicious, aching throb of need pulsing through him.

He scrambled for the water and gulped down half a bottle, then used a corner of the blanket to wipe the sweat and cooling come from his body.

When that pulsing need returned, he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of Tony’s hand against his back, thumb stroking gently.

Schmidt could punish him for choosing Tony over Pierce, he thought as his thoughts hazed over again, but Schmidt couldn’t make him change his choice.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Tony was on the phone with the florist when Pepper came into his office. “No, the traditional stuff is too traditional. I want something that says _partnership_ , not _ownership_. But _subtle_ , because the House is _very_ traditional.”

“I think I have just the thing, Mr. Stark,” said Melanie, the florist. “Would you like us to include a card?”

“I’ll write the card myself,” Tony told her. “I can pick them up this afternoon?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

Pepper smirked as Tony thumbed off the phone. “You like him.”

“Never said I didn’t,” Tony said. “Is the Board happy?”

“They are, actually,” Pepper said. “But I don’t think you really care what the Board thinks any more. I think you _like_ him. You’re going to keep him.”

“Stop talking about him like an object,” Tony grumbled. “He gets a say in this, you know.”

“That?” Pepper pointed out, grinning. “Right there? Is how I know you like him.”

Tony huffed and slumped back in his chair. “Fine, I like him. He’s smart, he’s nothing like what the House wants him to be. If I could just get him away from the damned Guardian for a couple of hours...”

“Naughty.”

“Not like that,” Tony protested. “Well, a little like that. But just... He’s _so careful_ when he knows the Guardian’s listening, and I know if he could just relax and be himself, he’d be...”

“You’re already half gone on him,” Pepper said with obvious delight. She came around the desk and bent to kiss Tony on the cheek. “You let yourself go into debt with Natasha for him.”

“It’s only a small favor,” Tony grumbled. “I think she’s gone back to see Ser Rogers on her own. She might end up owing me.”

“Mm-hm,” Pepper hummed. “She says it’s adorable, watching you fawn over him.”

Tony glared. “I’m not _fawning_. I’m just paying attention. Isn’t that what you do when you’re courting? Pay attention to them?”

“And in a long-term relationship, as well,” Pepper agreed. “Paying attention is important. You’re doing a great job so far. Keep it up. And you’re taking him flowers? That’s so sweet.”

“It’s boring and traditional,” Tony muttered. “But if I tried to give him a car or something, they’d just take it away. It’s that sort of House.”

“You can give him a car as a bonding gift,” suggested Pepper. “He ought to get to pick out his own anyway, don’t you think?”

“I doubt he knows how to drive,” Tony said.

“If he’s as quick as you say he is, I’m sure he’ll learn. Now that I’ve indulged your Alpha need to brag about your beloved--”

“Pepper!”

“--can we move on to these projections? Horst’s are either wildly optimistic, or his team’s had some kind of breakthrough, and I need you to get to the bottom of it.” Pepper pulled up the screen with a quick flick of her fingertips, and Tony sighed and turned his attention to work.

***

Tony tried not to think about the way his stomach fluttered as he approached Hydra House, lush bouquet in one arm. He’d originally thought of this as a business deal -- he’d get a little slack from the Board, an Omega would get a comfortable situation and more freedom than they’d been accustomed to. He’d hoped to find an Omega who was engaging, charming, someone who would do well on his arm at public events. Someone who could hold up their end of a conversation, as long as he didn’t let himself get too technical.

Tony hadn’t counted on James Barnes. James was incredibly beautiful, of course, but he was also smart and interesting in so many unexpected ways. Tony could have talked to him for hours. Every time James’ breath caught and his eyes slid toward his Guardian, Tony longed to know what he _really_ wanted to say.

Tony’s fantasies, lately, were a disturbing mix of intensely erotic and sweetly domestic. The erotic he had anticipated, from the first moment he’d bent over James’ wrist at the Reception and breathed in that intoxicating, clean scent, like fresh-fallen snow. He’d wanted James from that moment, and had been ready to entertain visions of taking James to bed, closing his teeth over that tantalizing spot on James’ neck, fucking a desperate James through a heat, watching James’ expression in climax.

He hadn’t been braced for the soft, cozy scenes his brain had presented him with: dinners at the seldom-used kitchen table in Tony’s apartment, evenings curled around each other as they watched movies, waking up to see James’ face still slack in sleep, working together over the engine of one of Tony’s favorite cars.

The sexual fantasies made Tony’s blood simmer with desire, but the domestic ones rocked Tony to his core and left him breathless with _wanting_.

Soon. Soon, he would have fulfilled the required courtship, and could ask James for his bond.

That heartening thought in mind, Tony rang the bell of Hydra House.

The man who answered the door gave Tony a peculiar look, then brought him into the front parlor he’d been to a few times before. James wasn’t waiting for him this time, but that was hardly to be expected; Tony couldn’t expect James to exist in a state of waiting for Tony, after all. He rocked back on his heels, ready to be the one waiting, this time.

When the door finally opened, it wasn’t James after all, but a thin Beta with a gaunt, ruddy face. “Mr. Stark,” he said. “I have been remiss in welcoming you to Hydra House. I am Johann Schmidt, the Head.”

Oh, here it was. The pitch. Tony shook the man’s hand. “Mr. Schmidt, I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to allow Ser Barnes to see you today,” Schmidt said.

“Is he unwell?” Tony’s heart thumped hard in his chest.

“Perfectly well,” Schmidt said, “if a bit uncomfortable. He is in seclusion.”

Oh. Heat seclusion. That... made sense, even if Tony hadn’t noticed any of the early markers of oncoming heat, the last time he’d seen James. He felt bereft. Days, he wouldn’t be able to see James. And to know, at the same time, that James was spending those days suffering. It was maddening.

“Mr. Stark,” Schmidt continued, “I hope your heart is not entirely set upon James. We have several very promising candidates who will be old enough for Reception within a year or so. As a patron of the House, you would be offered the chance to get to know them before their official availability. You could find someone who suits you far better.”

“I like Ser Barnes well enough,” Tony said stiffly.

Schmidt’s lips curved regretfully. “You should know that you have a rival for James’ affections. A patron of the House, in fact, who’s known him for some years. They’ve had something of an understanding for some time, now. I wouldn’t want you to be taken by surprise, should things not go your way. You can always withdraw, and return another season. The House would be proud to have you as a patron.”

Christ, he was practically pimping those poor Omegas at Tony, wasn’t he?

Tony shook his head. “I’ll take my chances, thanks,” he said. He held out the bouquet. “Will you see he gets these?”

“Of course, Mr. Stark. I’m sure he’ll be grateful.” Schmidt took the bouquet with a smile that made his gaunt face look like a skull. “Good day, Mr. Stark.”

He left, carelessly holding the bouquet, and Tony wondered if it would make its way to James after all, or if it would be thrown away as soon as Tony exited the House.

He took a couple of deep breaths, searching for James’ scent, though he knew seclusion rooms were usually well-sealed and ventilated through special filters specifically to prevent Alpha detection. He caught a faint whiff, a lingering trace in the room from an earlier occupation, but that was all.

With a sigh, Tony found his way back to the door and left. As he was coming down the steps, he nearly bumped shoulders with a man on his way up. The man was tall and exceptionally handsome and familiar. And Alpha to the core, his apologetic smile just wide enough to show off his canines, which was a dick move.

“Mr. Stark,” the man said, and as soon as he spoke, Tony recalled the name: Alexander Pierce, who headed a conglomerate of defense contractors. They’d worked together once or twice, back when Tony had still been in the weapons business. “Surely you haven’t been turned away?”

This, Tony realized, was his competition for James. Well, there was no reason for him not to be. Pierce was attractive, wealthy, and more than Alpha enough for any Omega. “It seems so,” Tony said. “The ser was indisposed.”

Pierce’s toothy grin got wider. “So I hear,” he said. “Poor James; I understand it was a rather sudden onset. Bound to be unpleasant. On the other hand, a few days of that, and he’ll be much more tractable, don’t you think? An Alpha could do almost anything with him.”

Tony studied Pierce’s expression. Was he really implying what Tony thought he was implying? “Which is why they have Guardians, of course,” Tony said.

“Of course,” Pierce echoed. “Dear Jasper. He’s been James’ Guardian since James arrived, did you know that? Such a... dedicated man. Knows his place in the order of things.” Pierce’s smile curved, and then he stepped back. “I won’t keep you,” he said. “I’ve promised to look in, see how everyone is doing, possibly have dinner with the Head. You should really consider becoming a patron,” he added. “You won’t have James, of course, but there are others. And patrons get there first.”

Pierce continued up the steps, leaving Tony standing there, seething. Had Pierce actually implied that the House was going to let him fuck James, fresh from heat seclusion -- or worse, still in it? Had he actually implied that the House _regularly_ perverted the entire purpose of the Houses to favor its patrons?

Tony shook himself out of his stunned and horrified stupor, and took the phone from his pocket as he descended the steps. “Rhodey,” he said. “I’m calling in a favor. I need a reason for Alexander Pierce to be called to Washington immediately, and keep him there for at least a week.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

The passage of time was difficult to track during heat, but Bucky’s vague count of times the lights went out and came back on suggested he’d been in heat for five days. It might have been more. Or it might have been less.

By the end, he was sobbing in pain with every brush of his hand over his dick, every push of his fingers into his aching hole. He wasn’t coherent enough for fantasies to carry him through; he had been reduced to a desperate, mindless creature. Bucky would have begged to be fucked by any Alpha who walked in the door -- Tony, Pierce, even Rumlow.

But at last the fire under his skin faded. He drank the last of his water and fell into a stuporous sleep.

It felt like he’d been asleep for no more than a few minutes when the door slammed open. “Ug, you’re disgusting,” Sitwell said. “Get up, hurry up, up up up! You have to clean up and change. Pierce is in with the Head _now_ and he won’t be stalled. He is _not_ happy with you right now.”

Bucky bit down a protest -- it was hardly his fault he’d been forced into heat -- and let Sitwell push and bully him into the shower.

The hot water felt like heaven on the tight muscles of his back and chest, but it was agony on his raw cock and ass. He cleaned off as quickly as he could manage, cringing away from the relentless stream of the water.

Sitwell was waiting when he emerged, clothes already in his hands. “Hurry,” he urged.

His urgency was contagious. Bucky dragged on the clothes, not pausing to wince at the drag of cloth on his dick. As it was, they emerged from the dormitory just in time to hear the door to the Head’s office open and to see Pierce stride out. Pierce looked up at spotted them, and his name had never seemed more appropriate as that gaze speared Bucky, freezing him like a mouse before a snake.

Bucky recalled Pierce’s rough assault and tried to summon the disgust and revulsion he’d felt at the time. But all he could feel, now, was tired.

“James,” Pierce said, and he sounded... fond, rather than angry. Had Sitwell gotten it wrong? “Come here.” He held out a hand.

Bucky could refuse to take it, but he was too exhausted to fight the inevitable. He took Pierce’s hand, let Pierce draw him closer.

Bucky half-expected another rough kiss or a grope, but Pierce only tucked Bucky’s hand into the crook of his arm and led the way toward the front door. “Come, darling. We need to have a talk somewhere with fewer prying eyes and ears. Let’s go to the park, shall we? You must be desperate for a bit of fresh air.”

“Yes sir,” Bucky managed. “That would be very nice.”

“Of course it would,” Pierce said. As he opened the door, he glanced back over his shoulder at Sitwell. “I know you’re only doing your job,” he said, “but if you could give us a _little_ space? I swear, I’ll be the model of restraint.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Pierce,” Sitwell promised.

The late afternoon sunlight felt like a warm caress against Bucky’s face, and the fresh air was a sweet balm to his lungs, even with Pierce’s leather and cologne in it. Bucky drew a deep breath, and then a deeper one, as if he had to store up that sensation for the future. They walked in silence the few blocks to the little park.

The long shadows of the trees fell over them, and Bucky closed his eyes to soak in the cool breeze.

“Yes, that must be delightful,” Pierce said, finally. “I can still smell the remnants of the heat on you. It’s intoxicating, even now; you must be _magnificent_ in the throes of it.”

Bucky certainly hadn’t _felt_ magnificent. He glanced at Pierce sidelong, and said nothing.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Pierce said lightly. “I promised to behave, and I shall. I flew home specially to see you, you know, as soon as Head Schmidt told me you were coming back to yourself. I’ll have to fly back out tonight, but my business in Washington should be concluded in another couple of days.”

If it were Tony, Bucky would have asked what the business was, and Tony would have told him, maybe even asked his opinion. Bucky just nodded and let Pierce steer him down a green path. Even with Sitwell hanging back, out of easy hearing, they weren’t alone. There were several other groups strolling along the paths or admiring the fountains that were at the center of the park.

“When I return,” Pierce was saying, “I expect that you will have made up your mind to do what’s right.”

Coming toward them on the path -- wasn’t that Tony’s Alpha friend, Ms. Romanov? And walking with her -- that was Steve!

Steve seemed to spot Bucky at the same time. He lifted a hand in a wave, and Bucky unthinkingly returned it.

“James!” snapped Pierce. “You try my patience! Are you really so ill-trained as to let that low-class Omega take your attention from me?”

Bucky snatched his hand back, pressing it against his chest as if it had acted of its own accord. He dropped his gaze. “Forgive me, sir,” he whispered. How could he have forgotten?

Pierce growled. “Sometimes I don’t know what I see in you. Rest assured, once you’re mine, these appalling manners of yours _will_ be corrected.”

Bucky shuddered. “Sir, I--”

“Silence! You are at a crossroads, James, I feel it only fair to warn you. You can recall your place and behave as befits my Omega, with obedient duty, or you can continue with these little rebellions of yours, and discover just how unpleasant I can make things for you. I’ve invested a great deal of time and money into you, so I suggest that you grant me the respect and devotion that I am owed. Otherwise, I will be forced to find other ways to be compensated for my investment. For instance, I might be tempted to sell your heats to the highest bidder.”

Bucky stared at him in shock. “But you can’t--”

“Can,” Pierce said tightly, “and will. You think legality has stopped such things in the past? You think anyone will listen to _you_ , when I tell them you’re prone to strange delusions in your heat? So I advise you to choose your words and actions with more care.”

Bucky swallowed hard. Bad enough to be bonded to Pierce, but to be forced to spend his heats with someone else? Someone he didn’t even _know_? Bucky shuddered and dropped his gaze again. “I understand, sir.”

Pierce hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure you do. But you will. I don’t have time for it tonight -- I barely have time for this visit -- but when I return. I’d hoped to visit you during your heat, to leave my scent on you for Stark to enjoy, but now I’ll have the pleasure of you being lucid for my enjoyment. It’s a tradeoff. And Stark will never want to see you again, once he realizes.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe, his lungs wouldn’t work. He stared at the ground, his eyes watering as he fought to draw air.

“Ah,” Pierce said, calmly. Almost kindly. “I see you at last begin to understand your place. Good. Come, let’s go back to the House, now. I have a plane to catch.”

***

“I need a greater output ratio,” Tony muttered, moving lines around in his blueprints. “Preferably without generating too much more heat to dump.”

He wasn’t looking into adapting Stark batteries for vehicle use _specifically_ because James had suggested it, but it was true that James’ suggestion had gotten him started thinking about it. He was pretty sure it was doable, too, if only he could find a way to increase the power. He’d been working on it since dinner, and if he didn’t stop soon, he’d forget to go to bed and still be working on it when the sun rose. It was getting late. But he was _so close_ to figuring this piece out...

A soft sound drew him out of his contemplation of the blueprints, too regular to be the house settling. Tony looked up with a frown.

There it was again, a quiet tapping that came from... He swiveled his head around. The front door?

He shoved his laptop onto the coffee table, frowning. It was too late for casual visitors. Pepper would just walk in. Rhodey would knock louder. Who the fuck could possibly be knocking on his door at -- he checked the clock -- two in the damn morning?

Tony looked through the security camera, but could only make out that it was a single person, relatively small in stature. He frowned at the image, but he already knew that curiosity was going to win over prudence. He pulled the door open.

And then slammed it shut again. “Oh, fuck, no, what the _hell?_ ”

“Mr. Stark!” called Ser Rogers through the door. “Please, Mr. Stark, I have to talk to you!”

“Are you _insane?_ ” Tony demanded, loud enough to be heard through the door. “It’s the middle of the night! If anyone sees you -- or worse, sees us _together_ \--”

“Please, Mr. Stark! It’s about Bucky!”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” As soon as he said it, though he knew who Rogers had to mean. Tony groaned and opened the door again. “What about him? And where the hell is your Guardian?”

Rogers’ mouth quirked into a sardonic smile. “You think if my Guardian was here, he’d be able to salvage any of this?”

Tony crossed his arms. “You snuck out of your House and came all the way to Manhattan in the _middle of the damn night_ , to turn up on the doorstep of an Alpha you don’t even _know_ , and you didn’t bring a Guardian with you? Do you even _know_ what kind of trouble we’re in, if anyone catches wind of this?”

Rogers snorted indelicately. “I’ll be turned out of my House and you’ll have a scandal and a stock drop,” he guessed. “But I had to. It’s _Bucky_.”

Tony could only admire that kind of loyalty, even if it was still batshit crazy. “Okay, come in. I’m listening.”

“I saw him out earlier, with Alexander Pierce,” Rogers said, slipping through the door and past Tony, into the open space.

Tony grimaced and activated the privacy panels on his windows. “Yeah, I knew Pierce was courting him, too.”

“He’s not courting him,” Rogers said, his jaw jutting mulishly. “He’s _bought_ him. Pierce was talking like it was a done deal, and Bucky doesn’t get any say.”

“He said something to me to that effect, too,” Tony admitted.

Rogers glared at him. “Aren’t you going to _do_ anything about it?” he demanded. “Or were you toying with Bucky’s affections? For, what, approval ratings or something?”

“I’m doing my best,” Tony said. “I already stopped them from-- Nevermind, the point is, no I’m not playing. But what do you think I can do about it? If the House has already made up its mind, they’ll deny my suit.”

Rogers looked at him for a minute. “Are you really planning to bond him?”

“If I can figure out how to keep him out of Pierce’s hands, yes.” Tony hadn’t admitted that aloud, yet, not even to Pepper. But the truth was, he’d been planning it since their second meeting.

“And you’ll treat him right,” Rogers asked, belligerent and fierce.

“I like him,” Tony said. “I’m not after a toy or arm candy. I want a bondmate who’s a person, not a possession.”

Rogers seemed to soften a little at that. “Well, then,” he said carefully, “if you’re not afraid of a little bit of scandal, you can always turn the tables on them.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky slept poorly, when he slept at all. His dreams were haunted by ghostly hands that touched him without his permission, pinching and pulling and invading. When he opened his mouth to tell them to stop, no sound came out of his throat. He tried to cling to the scent of metal and coconut, but Pierce’s cologne choked his senses. _It all belongs to me,_ the dream-Pierce said. _Even your memories. Soon, you’ll know nothing but what I tell you._

When dawn finally pinked the sky, Bucky gave up trying to rest. He got up and looked out the window at the sunrise, its brilliant pinks and oranges and golds thrown across the sky. Would Pierce take this from him, as well?

He shook his head and went into the bathroom. None of the other Omegas were up yet, so he took his time showering and shaving, breathing in the sweet, clean scent of the House soap. Once Pierce claimed him, then Pierce would decide what Bucky would smell like. Bucky wondered if it would be more or less painful to have coconut-scented body wash.

His closet was full of clothes that Pierce had selected for him. Did it matter which one he picked? Bucky dressed himself in a black suit with a blue shirt that was cut to show off his throat, and pulled his hair back into a small, neat bun.

When Sitwell came in, he found Bucky dressed and waiting, standing by the window and looking down at the courtyard below. If he was surprised, he didn’t say so. “Good,” he said instead. “You’re ready. Mr. Pierce is due home this afternoon. We’ll be paying him a call.”

“At his house?” Bucky asked. It was an effort to keep his voice even.

Sitwell’s eyebrows rose. Was he disappointed that he wouldn’t get to taunt Bucky with the truth? “I see he told you what to expect.”

“I have a clearer picture now, yes,” Bucky agreed. “Is he even going to bond me?”

Sitwell didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “That will likely depend on you,” he said. “I suggest you try to please him.”

Bucky shuddered, but nodded.

He barely tasted his breakfast; it might as well have been ash in his mouth. He wouldn’t have eaten at all, except that he didn’t know when Pierce would allow him to eat again. He wondered briefly if any of the younger Omegas understood what it was he would be going to -- whether they knew they would share his fate one day. Bucky hadn’t known. He could tell them, but what good would it do? No; let them have their illusions.

After breakfast, Bucky made his way to the library. He didn’t know if he was still restricted, but what else could Schmidt really do to him, now? Sitwell didn’t try to stop him, anyway. He walked past the carefully-curated novels with their benevolent Alphas and subservient Omegas, past the magazines that promised all the best tips and tricks for snaring an Alpha’s eye, and picked up a newspaper instead.

It was a few days old, but Bucky was a few days out of date, anyway. He settled in a chair and tried to read.

It was hard to concentrate. His thoughts kept returning to Pierce, to wondering how the afternoon would go. They strayed toward Tony, as well -- would Tony know what had happened, or simply assume Bucky had chosen his other suitor? Bucky wished there were a way to leave a message for him. An apology. If he had known Pierce’s game, he would never have led Tony on.

Would never have let his own hopes dare to reach so far.

He had been staring at the same page for half an hour, not having absorbed a single word, when the knock sounded, booming through the front of the House. Bucky could practically feel the House tensing in anticipation, but all he felt was a dull curiosity.

It wouldn’t be Pierce; he was waiting for Bucky to come to him. Perhaps it was one of the other patrons, come to pick out their future Omega.

And then Bucky heard the voice, terse and loud: Tony. Bucky was on his feet in an instant.

“James,” Sitwell warned. “You know--”

Bucky ignored him, dodged Sitwell’s grasping hand, and ran for the front hall.

Tony was there, arguing with the Guardian who’d opened the door. Bucky stumbled to a halt, and Tony broke off mid-word. “Ser Barnes,” he breathed, relief in every sound. He held out a hand, offering. Entreating. “Come with me.”

Sitwell all but crashed into Bucky’s back. “He’s spoken for, Stark,” Sitwell said. “He’s not yours to take. The House has an understanding with Mr. Pierce.” The other Guardian bolted, probably for the Head.

Tony ignored both Guardians, his eyes fixed on Bucky. “Is that what you want?” Tony asked. “Have you accepted his suit?”

Bucky shook his head microscopically. He took a step forward, hand reaching out.

Sitwell grabbed the back of Bucky’s jacket and jerked him back. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled. “You belong to Mr. Pierce.”

“Not yet he doesn’t,” Tony said, baring his Alpha’s teeth. “James, _Bucky_. I’m offering you another way out. Come take my hand. Please.”

“He’s been defiled,” Sitwell said. Bucky wondered if Tony could hear the note of desperation in Sitwell’s voice. “Pierce has had him already.”

“He hasn’t,” Bucky gasped. He slipped free of his jacket and threw himself forward, nearly falling into Tony. “He... he kissed me, but that’s all, I swear, that’s--”

“Shh,” Tony said. “I know. It’s all right. He hasn’t bonded you yet, and that’s all that matters.”

“Not yet,” said Head Schmidt, striding into the hall, “but he will. Tonight.”

Tony curled his arm around Bucky’s chest, holding Bucky in front of him. “He won’t,” Tony said. “Not if I bond him right now.”

A jolt of fear swept through Bucky.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Tony murmured in Bucky’s ear. “It’s not how I want this to go, but I will, if your Head forces my hand.” Tony shifted a little, and Bucky felt Tony’s breath warm and steady against his neck. “Well, Mr. Schmidt? I’m willing to accept the scandal of a runaway bonding. Are you? You’d lose a lot of patrons, I would think, if it got out that you couldn’t properly guard your Omegas.”

Schmidt’s teeth ground together so hard that Bucky could hear it from across the hall. “And what do you propose instead?” he demanded.

“Ser Barnes will transfer back to the Brooklyn House for the time being,” Tony said. “Into the hands of a Head and Guardian I can actually trust. The bonding will be properly announced and observed in three days. He will be listed as an Omega of Hydra House, and I will make a generous donation of gratitude to the House.”

“Do you think you can get away with this? Brooklyn House already rejected him once. They’ll never take him back.” Schmidt’s ears were practically steaming, and if Bucky hadn’t been the object of this tug-of-war, he might have enjoyed that.

“Oh, but they will,” Tony said. “I’ve brought a Guardian with me, for orderly transfer. Or, if you prefer, we can do this the other way. But make no mistake: Ser Barnes has made his choice, and he _is_ leaving with me. One way or another.”

Bucky was shaking, suddenly, deep in his core. Could this really be happening? Could there be a way out for him?

Tony squeezed his shoulder gently. “Come on, honey,” he said softly. “Let’s get you out of here.” Tony turned Bucky gently and led him to the door, staying between Bucky and Schmidt and Sitwell.

Outside, in the bright light, were Steve and Steve’s Guardian.

Steve lurched forward and put an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him out, away from Tony. “Buck, c’mere, I’ve gotcha.” Steve looked at him, and then up at Tony. “It worked?”

“More or less,” Tony said. He caught Bucky’s gaze. “You might remember Ser Rogers’ Guardian, Clint Barton? He’s agreed to Guard you as well, for the next few days. Is that okay with you?”

Bucky had almost forgotten about Tony’s careful consideration. His eyes welled and he blinked away the tears as he nodded his assent.

“Might as well,” Clint said cheerfully. “Peggy’s going to nail Steve’s ass to the wall for this stunt. We’re not going anywhere anyway.”

Steve’s jaw worked stubbornly. “Worth it,” he said shortly.

Tony reached across Steve to take Bucky’s hand. “Listen,” he said, low and urgent. “I had to force your choice to get you out of there, but if you don’t want this, we’ll figure something else out. You don’t have to go back there, no matter what you choose. Take some time and think about it, okay?”

Bucky shook his head. “No.” His shoulders hunched in anticipation, but Clint didn’t correct him for arguing with the Alpha. “No, I... I want it. I wanted it even before they... If you want it,” he added, suddenly aware that Tony’s willingness to rescue him from Pierce might not extend all the way to bonding.

But Tony’s smile was like the sun. He lifted Bucky’s hand and pressed his lips to the inside of Bucky’s wrist, soft and easy. “Thank you.”

“All right, Alpha, that’s enough out of you,” Clint said. It came out jokingly, but Tony released Bucky and held up his hands as if in surrender.

“Can you blame me?” Tony said, grinning. “We’re going to be bonded.”

“Yeah, I heard that part,” Clint said. “Behave yourself until then.”

“Behaving badly is still behaving,” Steve pointed out.

Clint sighed. “I’m going to call you Trouble and Trouble Prime,” he chided as he nudged Bucky and Steve ahead of him down the walk. “Why did I agree to this, again?”

Bucky let Steve steer him down the sidewalk, but he looked back to see Tony watching them go, and the shivering in his chest redoubled. He pressed it down, afraid that it would shake him awake.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Clint drove an ancient, beat-up purple VW Jetta, and he had no apparent complaints about Steve bundling Bucky into the backseat so they could sit together for the drive back to Brooklyn House. “Maybe I should retire from Guarding and become a chauffeur for rich spoiled Omegas,” he said, but he laughed as he said it.

Clint seemed to laugh and smile a lot. That was. That was different. Bucky was used to Guardians who only smiled for the Head, or for Alphas.

It wasn’t a long drive, but as they pulled into a garage to park next to a sleek red Lexus, Clint muttered, “Uh-oh. Here comes Hurricane Carter.”

The woman storming toward them across the garage was beautiful and utterly terrifying. Next to Bucky, Steve cringed a little, then drew an audible breath. “Okay,” he said. “It’s gonna be okay.” He clambered over Bucky to climb out of the car and stand between Bucky and the woman. “Ms. Carter, I--”

“Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you even _try_ ,” she said, sharp but not loud. “I have been out of my _mind_ all morning!”

“It was _important_ ,” Steve said, and Bucky could _hear_ the way he’d set his jaw stubbornly.

Bucky held his breath and braced. Hadn’t Steve learned not to argue, at all? Apparently not.

“Be that as it may,” Ms. Carter said, “this sort of behavior is _entirely_ inexcusable, and there shall be consequences.”

Bucky flinched, still half-hiding in the back seat of the Jetta. Steve’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he complained.

“Yes,” Ms. Carter said firmly. “We’ll hold the session immediately, since Mr. Stark was good enough to call ahead for you.”

Steve hunched further. “Thanks for nothin’,” he muttered. He sighed and stepped to the side. “C’mon out, Buck.”

Bucky swallowed hard and climbed out of the car. “Ma’am,” he greeted Ms. Carter.

“That’s Peggy Carter,” Clint put in from the other side of the car. “She’s the Head of Brooklyn House.”

“James,” she greeted him, and it was almost warm. “Or do you prefer Bucky?”

“Uh. Bucky, if you please, ma’am,” Bucky said. Wondering if he was about to undo all of Steve’s and Tony’s efforts, he said, “He-- Steve went to all that trouble on my account. If. If you’re gonna punish someone, it should be me.”

“That’s very loyal of you,” she said. “I see why he likes you so much. But Steven made his choices, and he’s the one who should pay for them. Come on.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the far door, the one that led into the House.

Steve shuffled after her, and Bucky followed in his wake. Whatever the punishment was, he promised silently, he’d stand by Steve through it. Steve wouldn’t be in trouble if it weren’t for Bucky, after all.

Ms. Carter led them through the house, and at every turn, Bucky expected her to open a door onto a punishment yard, like at Hydra House, or perhaps into a room that was fitted for it. But where she stopped at last looked like a bright, well-lit classroom. Sitting in the chairs were seven or eight young Omegas who all looked up attentively when Ms. Carter swept through the doorway.

Bucky felt ill, but Ms. Carter sat in one of the empty desks, and gestured Bucky toward another one. He slid into the well-polished seat uneasily. “All right, Steven,” Ms. Carter said. “We’re waiting.”

Steve trudged to the front of the classroom and folded his arms irritably. “I snuck out of the House last night,” he admitted in a low, sullen voice.

A few of the children gasped, and a low flush climbed Steve’s neck. “I did it ‘cause my friend was in trouble and I was tryin’ to help him,” Steve added.

The kids looked over at Bucky with undisguised curiosity. Ms. Carter just folded her hands on the desk. “And what should you have done differently?”

A trio of hands went up. “He should’a tol’ you!” burst out one boy, too eager to contain himself.

“At the very least,” Ms. Carter agreed. “However, Peter, remember to wait your turn to speak. Yes, Julia?”

Bucky stared at the scene in disbelief as the next child spoke up. This... was Steve’s punishment? Having to confess his crimes and endure correction from his peers? Somewhat humiliating, perhaps, but not... painful. Not unendurable. And Ms. Carter seemed more amused than offended by his attitude.

She was watching Bucky, now, something sympathetic in her eyes. “Not what you expected?” she asked softly.

“No ma’am,” Bucky said. “I... This’s...”

“We hear things, from time to time, but each House is so self-contained,” she sighed. “I’d hoped that rumor was wrong, but given the tale Mr. Stark told me this morning, I rather think the rumors were too mild. On behalf of Brooklyn House, I’m most heartily sorry that we sent you into that.”

“Why did you?” Bucky wondered. “I mean. Not you, of course, but...”

Ms. Carter sighed. “Come on, I’ll walk you up to your room and explain on the way.” She stood up and excused them from the room. Steve watched them go with a somewhat beleaguered expression, but Bucky gave him a thumbs-up, and he rolled his eyes and went back to arguing with Peter about some minor point of law.

“Chester Phillips, who was Head before me, was an old military man,” she said. “He believed in discipline, above all else. Of course, we tried to tell him -- I was a Guardian, then -- we tried to tell him that children shouldn’t be treated like soldiers, but he was set in his ways. And you in particular... I looked your records up, this morning. You and Steven both were sneaking out at least once a week.”

“Missed my sister,” Bucky admitted. “She cried so hard when I had to leave, and the House was too far for her to walk to visit.”

“But not too far for you?” Ms. Carter asked, a smile in her voice.

“I was older,” Bucky said, shrugging it off. “An’ Steve missed his Ma somethin’ fierce. We grew up together, even before we came here.”

“I gathered as much from your records. And you did then what you tried to do today: you took the blame on yourself, as much as you could. Admirable, but it drove Mr. Phillips to distraction. He thought that you both would benefit from being separated, and you in particular could use a somewhat firmer hand. If we’d known then what Hydra House was like... But all we knew was that it had a reputation for turning out model Omegas.”

Bucky’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Because they don’t ever let you know what happened to the not-so-perfect ones.”

“So I understand. I am heartily sorry for that,” she said. “I wish we could do more to make amends.” She opened a door onto a long hall, lined with more doors. The dormitory, of course. She stopped at the fifth one down on the right. “Here. You’ll be sharing with your friend, but it’s only for a few days. Unless, of course, you choose not to accept Mr. Stark’s offer. In which case we’ll find some more space.”

Bucky blinked at her. “He said that, too. That I could change my mind.”

“And so you can,” Ms. Carter said crisply. “You’re a person, not a possession. If you don’t wish to bond with Mr. Stark, then we will discuss your other options. I’m given to understand most Omegas prefer to bond, but some few choose other courses. And even if you wish to bond, you may not wish to bond _him_. He’s quite the handful, sometimes.”

“You know him?”

“Tolerably well,” she agreed. “I knew his father better, but yes, I know him. Is there something you want to know?”

A million things. Bucky chewed on his lip, considering how to ask. “Is he... kind?”

Ms. Carter’s mouth curved in a smile. “One of the kindest men I’ve ever known,” she said. “Though he’d deny it if I said it to his face, and not nearly so kind to himself as he is to others. He has a reputation for ruthlessness, and it’s not unfounded, but it’s always been deserved, in my opinion. And he’s generous to a fault.”

She turned the doorknob and opened the door. Steve’s room was bright with windows and something of a mess, scattered about with paper and pencils and books. “I’ll leave you to rest; you’ve had a trying morning, no doubt. See if you can convince Steven to tidy up a little, when he comes in,” Ms. Carter suggested.

Bucky went into the room and Ms. Carter left, closing the door softly behind her. Bucky picked a book up off the floor and looked at it: art history. He set it on the desk and looked at the small collection there: military history, an art student’s guide, a novel.

Bucky tried to imagine what he’d have in his room, if he’d grown up here. Auto repair manuals on his desk? The newspaper, perhaps even uncensored? Clothes to suit his own taste and not that of a patron? Would he be confident enough in his welcome that he could complain and argue, keep his room in disarray?

Would he have been able to entertain multiple suitors and choose among them as he wished?

He tried to imagine it, but he still couldn’t imagine wanting to accept any proposal except Tony’s.

He was going be bound to Tony. He wasn’t changing his mind. Pierce... might come looking for him, but Bucky couldn’t imagine anyone getting past Ms. Carter. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth as he started to pick up Steve’s room.

Steve came in a short while later. “Hey, Buck, are you-- What are you doing?”

“Huh?” Bucky looked down at the handful of pencils in his hand. “Just picking up a little.”

Steve looked at the neat stack of drawings on the side of his desk and swiped them all off onto the floor.

“Hey! What’d you do that for?” Bucky demanded. He’d been so careful not to rumple the pages when he’d picked them up.

“‘Cause it’s not your job to pick up after me,” Steve said.

“Ms. Carter said you needed to tidy it up!” Bucky protested.

“Did she say you should do it?” Steve pushed. “I bet not. She’s big on personal responsibility. She probably said _I_ oughta pick it all up.”

Bucky hesitated. “I guess. What difference does it make who does the work?”

“I didn’t bring you here to clean up my room, Buck. Nothin’ awful’s gonna happen if my room’s a mess. She’ll just roll her eyes and lecture me about it a little.”

Bucky leaned over and deliberately picked up the pages Steve had swept to the floor. “An’ what if I just like bein’ in a neat room, huh, punk?”

“Ug, you’re such a jerk,” Steve complained. “Give me those. I’ll help you finish, okay?”

“Great. Reckon we’ll be done in time for lunch?”

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Clint came to fetch them for breakfast the next morning, Bucky and Steve had been up and dressed for hours. Bucky had woken before dawn in a panic, not knowing where he was, and not been able to go back to sleep. Steve, being Steve, had volunteered to stay awake with him.

When Clint knocked on the door, Bucky was sitting cross-legged on the cot they’d given him, reading one of Steve’s books -- a history of well-known Omega artists -- while Steve sat on the bed, sketching Bucky.

Bucky jolted upright at the knock -- it was more warning than Sitwell had ever given -- but Steve didn’t even look up. “Come in!” he called.

The door opened. “You’re up?” Clint said, feigning surprise. “And _dressed?_ What magic is this?”

“Ha ha, funny,” Steve snarked back.

“Maybe Bucky’s a good influence on you, after all,” Clint said. “Breakfast is just about ready. You might want to avoid the eggs; Peter’s on kitchen duty this morning.”

“Toast and juice it is,” Steve agreed. He closed his sketchpad and slid off the bed onto his feet.

“And you,” Clint continued, turning to Bucky, “have a message from your intended.” He offered Bucky a slim envelope.

Bucky took it in suddenly shaking hands. “What’s it say?”

“How should I know?” Clint asked. “It’s your mail.”

Sitwell would have known. It took Bucky a couple of tries to slide his finger under the flap and get the letter out without ripping or crumpling the whole thing.

“Well?” Steve said impatiently.

“He wants to take me out this afternoon,” Bucky said, skimming it, and then going back over it again, slowly. “To go driving.” He blinked at the letter. “That’s very... formal and traditional of him.” He glanced at Clint, and then at Steve. “He didn’t even do this when I was with Hydra.”

“Probably,” Clint put in, “he wants to make sure the House can spare a Guardian for you. We’ll have to rearrange a little to make it happen.”

“Oh, I... I don’t want to put you out,” Bucky said quickly. “I can decline.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Do you _want_ to decline?”

“No, I mean--” Going for a drive sounded a little dull, but it was _Tony_. It would be a nice chance for them to talk, if nothing else. Maybe Bucky would get a better idea of Tony’s expectations. Maybe Tony would touch him again. Bucky could feel heat rising out of his collar. “I just...”

“There you are, then,” Clint said. “You want to go, you can go. We’ll make it happen.”

“Maybe I’ll spend the afternoon teaching Peter how to make eggs,” Steve put in with a grin.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Bucky was a bundle of nerves. He’d seen Tony so briefly the day before, but he could still feel Tony’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, Tony’s breath against his neck. Would it feel like that when Tony bonded him? What would happen today? Sitwell wouldn’t have allowed any liberties, not from Tony, but Clint seemed more relaxed.

Did Bucky _want_ Tony to take any liberties? He didn’t know.

How much could really happen while they were driving, anyway?

Tony arrived in a beautiful dark red TVR Griffith with gold detailing, flashy and elegant all at once. He greeted Bucky very properly, shook hands with Clint, and kissed Ms. Carter’s cheek as if they were old friends. It was a world of difference from the way he had acted at Hydra House. He seemed more open, more friendly, more _human_ than ever before.

When Tony turned back to Bucky, he had to shake himself out of a daze. “Ready to go?” Tony was saying. “It’ll be a touch cramped for you in the back,” he told Clint, “but we’re not going far.”

Clint shrugged it away. “I’ve had worse,” he promised.

Tony took Bucky’s hand and tucked it through the crook of his arm to lead him out to the car. Did Tony’s hand linger just a bit on his back, as they waited for Clint to fold himself into the back seat?

“So,” Tony asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat, “do you know how to drive at all?”

Bucky shook his head. Hydra House hadn’t expected their Omegas to need to know that, and while they’d indulged his fascination with motors from time to time, he hadn’t been allowed to get behind the wheel.

Tony grinned at him, toothy and sharp. “Want to?”

Bucky blinked at him. “Wh-- Really?”

Tony hummed as he made a turn, the uptick of his lips smug. “It’s not the usual sort of outing, but I thought you might enjoy it. There’s a course -- if you already knew how to drive, you could have some fun with it. But I figured you might not know, and there’s an instructor waiting.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at Clint. “Certified to work with Omegas, all proper and correct,” he promised.

“When you said _driving_ ,” Bucky said, suddenly giddy, “I thought you meant something...”

“Something boring?” Tony finished. He downshifted and winked at Bucky as they pulled ahead.

Bucky laughed -- god, how long had it been since he’d laughed or smiled so much? -- and said, “I can’t imagine anything being boring if you’re involved.”

“Oh, flattery, very nice,” Tony said, and that sharp smile was back. “Keep it up; you’ll have me eating out of your hand in no time.”

It was only a metaphor, Bucky knew, but he couldn’t help envisioning it anyway, and a blush climbed up onto his cheeks. Hopefully, Tony would think it was just excitement.

The driving course where Tony took them was just outside the city and a wider open space than Bucky had ever seen with his own eyes. Three drivers waited for them, along with two cars, neither as nice as Tony’s, but certainly newer and better than Clint’s beat-up purple Jetta. Tony introduced Bucky to Ms. Morse, a handsome Beta woman with a smile that transformed her austere features.

She didn’t seem at all disturbed by the fact that Bucky was an Omega, nor that he’d never learned to drive. She asked what he did know, and took him straight to the royal blue Chevy Malibu, waving at him to get in behind the wheel.

The lesson took no more than an hour, but by the time it was done, Bucky had driven, albeit somewhat cautiously, all the way around the driving course. He pulled up a little distance from where they’d started to find Tony chatting idly with one of the other drivers. He broke off as Bucky got out of the car, beaming at him excitedly. “You did great!”

“Did all right, I guess,” Bucky said, walking over to him on legs that still felt slightly shaky from excitement and nerves. “Thank you, that was fun.”

“Good,” Tony said, bouncing on his toes. “We’ll set up regular lessons and practice for you so you can get your license, if you want.”

“Really? I never, I mean. That would be amazing.” Bucky had always assumed that being bonded would shrink his world, reduce his freedom even more. But being able to drive was... that was a whole world opening up to him. He could go _any_ where.

“Yeah?” Tony looked as pleased as if he were the one receiving a gift. “So this was... okay? I told you, I’m not good at romance, but I hoped you’d be pleased.”

“You’re doing just fine,” Bucky said. He hesitated for an instant, then leaned in to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek.

“Aw, come on, Bucky,” Clint sighed. “You know I’m not supposed to allow that.”

Tony’s hand had come up to cover the spot, and he was staring at Bucky in surprise, mouth curved into a smile.

“Sorry, Mr. Barton,” Bucky said, without taking his eyes off Tony’s. He wasn’t, not at all.

The whole drive back to Brooklyn House was a revelation, now that Bucky understood what Tony was doing. He watched the traffic and tried to guess when the best time to move was, paid attention to the signaling and lane changing, and compared the Griffith’s performance to the Malibu’s.

When they got back to the House, Tony glanced at Clint, then took Bucky’s hand and pressed his lips to the inside of Bucky’s wrist. “Thank you for coming out with me today, Ser Barnes.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Stark,” Bucky returned. His wrist prickled and tingled with the feel of Tony’s beard against it. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I certainly hope so,” Tony said. He lifted a hand as if he were going to touch Bucky’s shoulder or face, but then pulled it back. He smiled and went back to his car.

“Mm-hm,” Clint said. “You got it _bad_.”

Bucky looked at him, startled, but Clint’s expression was easy and teasing. “We’re going to be bonded, day after tomorrow,” Bucky pointed out. “I should hope I like him.”

“Yeah, I think there’s a little more than _like_ going on, there.” Clint clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good, you two are adorable.”

“He’s an Alpha, he’s supposed to be _striking_ or _intimidating_ , not adorable,” Bucky pointed out as they made their way into the House.

“Nope. Totally adorable. Every time he looks at you, his eyes are just like a big puppy’s.”

“He does not.”

“He absolutely does,” Clint crowed. “Great big huge eager-to-please puppy eyes.”

“Ser Barnes,” Ms. Carter said, greeting them in the front hall. “You have visitors waiting.”

Bucky froze mid-laugh to stare at her. She wouldn’t have let Pierce in, or any of Hydra House, would she? “I’m... I’m sorry?”

Ms. Carter gestured behind her. “In the library,” she said. “I believe you’ll want to see them immediately.” She smiled at him gently. “It’s your family.”

Bucky’s eyes widened until he worried they might fall out of his skull. “My-- My parents?”

“And your sister, yes.”

Bucky hadn’t seen them for over a year. They tried to visit him at Christmas each year, one of the few days that Hydra House had allowed family visits, but because of a delayed train, had missed the visitation hours last year. “I. Excuse me, Ms. Carter?”

“Of course,” she said, stepping aside to clear the path for him.

Bucky all but ran down the hall and burst into the library. “Oh my god,” he breathed, because there they were.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Jamie, darling,” his mother said, and flung herself at him. Becca wasn’t far behind her. Bucky wrapped his arms around his mother and sister, and his father came closer to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Bucky repeated. “What are you doing here?”

“When we heard about what happened, how could we not come?” Becca demanded, tearfully indignant.

Bucky’s insides ran cold. “What happened,” he repeated. “What did you hear?” What did they know?

“It’s all over the net,” Becca said. She pulled away and went to one of the computer terminals against the wall. Bucky held on to his mother and watched in fascination. Computer time at Hydra House had been strictly limited and monitored, and Bucky hadn’t asked yet how Brooklyn House managed its accounts, but Becca was drawing up news sites without any login or apparent restrictions, as if the computers were free for everyone to use.

“Here it is,” she said after a moment, and moved aside so Bucky could read.

The article was topped with a photograph of Schmidt and Zola, along with several Guardians, looking unhappy. The headline read, “Hydra House to Close?” Breath caught in his throat, Bucky read.

> After a tip from an undisclosed source, police are investigating the Hydra House for Omegas. Despite allegations that the House was engaged in illegal activities, specifically several violations of the Omega Protection Act, including inhumane treatment and medical experimentation, House Head Johann Schmidt staunchly maintains that he was acting in the Omegas’ best interests.
> 
> Schmidt and House doctor Arnim Zola have been taken into custody. The Omegas in residence have been admitted to the Omega ward of a local hospital to be evaluated for physical and mental stability while more permanent placements are arranged. Police are attempting to determine whether recent Hydra House graduates have been bonded under false pretenses, most recently James Barnes, whose upcoming bond to energy magnate Anthony Stark was announced only hours before the raid on the House occurred.

“Jamie, if you don’t want to bond with this guy,” his mother said, “you don’t have to.”

Bucky let out a laugh that sounded a little hollow. “Everyone keeps _telling_ me that. It’s okay. He’s not the one Hydra had picked out for me. He’s the one _I_ chose.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom, I’m sure.” Bucky dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Mr. Stark is good to me.”

“He’d better be,” Becca put in.

“Are you all coming to the ceremony?” Bucky asked.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” his mother assured him.

“Try and stop us!” said Becca, clinging to him more fiercely.

***

Bucky was grateful that he’d seen the article; it meant that he was somewhat prepared the next morning when the police came to interview him about Hydra House. He answered their questions as honestly as he could, and reassured them, as well, that Tony was not part of Hydra’s plans for him.

He was, however, in no way prepared for the small crush of reporters who mobbed him when he, Steve, and Clint left the House to go for a walk after lunch.

“Ser Barnes! Is it true that Zola experimented on you? Is that why you’re so tall?”

“Why are you at Brooklyn House instead of with the other Hydra Omegas?”

“Did Tony Stark buy you from Hydra House?”

“Are you going to go through with your bonding to Tony Stark?”

“Who’s your friend? Is he from Hydra House?”

“Is it true that Head Schmidt auctioned you off when you were only fifteen?”

Bucky reeled back several steps, colliding with Clint. “Easy, now,” Clint murmured. “Don’t give them anything.”

Steve stepped in front of him. “What the hell is wrong with you vultures?” he snapped, his fist curling.

“Not to step on your moment,” said a voice behind them, “but I’m going to intervene here, if you don’t mind.”

Bucky turned to see Ms. Romanov striding down the sidewalk toward them.

“Nat,” Steve breathed, and there was relief in his voice.

Bucky barely had time to register that Steve had called the Alpha by her first name before she was brushing past to face the reporters. “I’m the one you want to talk to.”

“Who are you?”

“Natasha Romanov. Otherwise known to you as the unidentified person who issued the initial complaint against Hydra House.” Ms. Romanov’s smile made her look like a cat that had caught a particularly plump mouse.

The reporters certainly seemed to catch on quickly; in their clamor to get her attention, Clint was able to snag Bucky’s and Steve’s wrists and pull them back into the House. “Guess we’re using the inner courtyard for a while,” he huffed as the door closed behind them.

Bucky just stared at Steve. “ _Nat?_ ” he asked under his breath.

Steve blushed. “Shut up, jerk.”

Less than an hour later, one of the younger Omegas -- Peter? -- knocked breathlessly at Steve’s door. “You should come look out the windows on the front,” he said. “Mr. Stark’s out there with the reporters now!”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look and then jumped to their feet, scrambling for one of the upper-level classrooms that overlooked the street.

Tony had parked in front of the House, the same gorgeous red Griffith that he’d driven the day before, and was standing on the sidewalk, arms waving as he talked. They couldn’t hear him, even when they opened the window a crack, but the reporters seemed to be divided about evenly between amusement and chagrin, by their expressions.

After a few moments, they slowly dispersed, and Tony turned toward the House, Ms. Romanov at his side.

Bucky and Steve bolted back to the dormitory. Steve was blushing again, and Bucky was pretty sure his own neck was red. They pushed and shoved at each other, laughing, as Steve tried to wash the pencil dust from his fingers and Bucky grabbed for the nicer clothes the House had loaned him.

Ms. Carter came to fetch them herself. Bucky thought he’d seen the Head of Brooklyn House more times in the past two days than he’d usually see of Schmidt in a month. He wondered if it was because he was a special case, or if she really was this involved in all her Omegas’ lives.

Tony and Ms. Romanov were waiting for them together.

“Thank you for your assistance today, Ms. Romanov,” Bucky said as soon as the formality of greetings was done. “If you hadn’t turned up, I expect Steve would’ve said something crazy, and then we’d all be in hot water.”

Steve glared at him, but Ms. Romanov just laughed. “Yes, that does seem very like him, doesn’t it?” she said, eyeing Steve fondly. Steve’s blush darkened, and it was hard to imagine it was in anger. “As it happens,” she continued, “Tony and I expected something of the sort might happen, as soon as someone figured out where you were staying. I was just around the corner, lying in wait.”

“We could’a handled it,” Steve protested. “You didn’t have to give up your whole morning for us.”

“I wasn’t averse to lingering in the neighborhood,” she said. The look she gave Steve was direct and made _Bucky_ want to blush. “And it happens that I owe Tony several favors.”

“And now I owe you one,” Tony put in. He gave Bucky a warm smile. “I threatened them all with restraining orders, so they should leave us mostly alone for a few days. Or at least until after the bonding.”

Bucky had _almost_ managed to forget that the bonding would take place the next day. He had to catch his breath by the tail to say, “That’s... that’s good. Thank you.”

“I’m afraid going out today would be dangling raw meat in front of the lions,” Tony continued. “But Ms. Carter has graciously agreed to let us stay for a visit, as long as we don’t try to make your Guardian split himself into two to keep track of both of you.”

Tony and Ms. Romanov sat on opposite ends of a long sofa, while Steve and Bucky took armchairs near the ends, leaving the whole of the loveseat to Clint. Clint leaned back into the corner of it, stretched his long arm across the back, and tipped his head back, for all the world as if he were taking a nap. But Bucky caught a glimpse of eye from under Clint’s lashes, and knew it was only an illusion.

He wasn’t sure if he were grateful or slightly frustrated by the continuing chaperone, even though he was going to be bonded _tomorrow_. Though to be fair, Clint’s angle on the loveseat let him face Steve a little more directly than Bucky.

“We’re all ready to go, for the ceremony,” Tony said. “Small, very private. That’ll make it hard for the press to find it, too. Peggy gave me the contact information for your family.” Unlike a wedding, in which the ceremony was the whole point, bond ceremonies tended toward the intimate. It had only been a handful of generations since the actual bonding was expected to take place during the ceremony, so the guest list was usually limited to the closest family.

“Could... Can Steve come?” Bucky asked. “Is that allowed?”

“I don’t see a problem with it, but--” Tony cocked his head toward Clint. “How much trouble are we talking about, here?”

Without opening his eyes any further, Clint lifted a hand and wobbled it, side to side. “Some security risk,” he said, “depending on who else will be there.”

“Two of my best friends are Betas,” Tony said, “and the only other person I’ve invited was Nat.”

Bucky looked over at Ms. Romanov in surprise. She gave him a bright, encouraging smile. “Tony and I go way back,” she said. “And he thought Steve might appreciate a first-hand account, later. Of course, if Steve will be coming...” She turned that smile on Clint, and Bucky couldn’t pinpoint the change, but it had suddenly become predatory, an Alpha’s smile. “I’ll protect him from anyone else who tries to get in,” she suggested, “and you can protect him from me.” Her green eyes slid sideways to glance at Steve. “For now.”

Steve was blushing again, though his chin was stubbornly lifted. “Protection I don’t need,” he said.

Clint snorted. “Too bad you’re not my boss, huh?” He nodded in Tony’s direction. “I’ll want to clear it with Peggy to be sure, but it’s probably doable.”

“Great!” Tony said, and sounded like he meant it. He glanced at Bucky. “Little nervous, if I have to be honest,” he admitted, _sotto voce_.

Bucky ducked his head. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Kind of wish it was just... done.”

“Not too much longer now,” Tony said, and he took Bucky’s hand in his, thumb brushing slowly and rhythmically across the inside of Bucky’s wrist. Bucky shivered in reaction and Tony smiled.

Not much longer, indeed.

 


	13. Chapter 13

The next afternoon, Bucky, Steve, Clint, and Ms. Carter all dressed in their finest -- well, Bucky was dressed in his borrowed finest, and Clint and Ms. Carter both looked very sharp -- and went down to the garage to climb into the Lexus.

Ms Carter drove, and Clint sat next to her in the front, while Bucky and Steve huddled in the back.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Steve took Bucky’s clammy hand and gripped it tight. “It ain’t too late to call it off,” he said, jaw jutting pugnaciously.

Bucky had to smile at that. “You just want to be the first one bonded,” Bucky accused jokingly, and Steve grinned at him.

It helped, a little.

The bonding ceremony was being held at a tiny, elegant restaurant that Tony appeared to have rented out in its entirety for the duration. There was a curtained-off room at the back. Ms. Carter drew Bucky’s hand through her arm and led him toward it, Steve and Clint following close behind.

Behind the curtain, a round dozen chairs had been set up in a fan around a central point. Bucky’s family were there, dressed in their Sunday best. Becca threw her arms around him, already teary-eyed.

Sitting at the other side of the half-circle were Ms. Romanov, a Beta woman with strawberry-blonde hair, and a dark-skinned Beta man in military dress. Bucky didn’t see Tony anywhere, but that was how the ceremony went.

Bucky hugged his sister and kissed his mother’s cheek, and shook his father’s hand. There would be time for that later, of course, but it seemed important to do it now, before. Ms. Carter waited patiently, then accompanied him to the front of the little room while the others took their seats.

_This is it_ , he thought, and the flutter of nervousness in his stomach erupted into a full-scale riot. He barely heard the city officiant call Tony forth, or the brief, traditional speech Ms. Carter gave -- something about duty and love, delivered in a warm, affectionate tone that nearly made him weep. Tony took his hands, then, and Bucky couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

Tony was dressed in a suit that had to have been tailored just for him, every seam and crease perfectly straight, each curve and angle accentuating the strength of his body, the proud way he held himself. He smelled of metal and coconut, and it was even stronger than it had been the first time they’d met, or maybe Bucky was just more aware of it.

He wanted to lean into that scent, to tuck his nose into Tony’s neck and just shut off his awareness of everything else. Tony’s thumb stroked lightly over Bucky’s skin, slow and soothing, and Bucky realized he was trembling.

Tony was speaking, prompted by the officiant. Traditional promises of protection and support. Honor and cherish. Pierce would have recited the same words, but Bucky thought Tony might actually mean them.

Then it was Bucky’s turn. He nearly panicked for a moment, every word having fled his whirling thoughts. Tony’s hands tightened on his, just a little. Just enough to ground him, enough for him to hear what the officiant was saying and repeat it back in a breathy, shaking voice.

And it was done. Bucky was almost grateful when the moment came for him to kneel on the thoughtfully-provided cushion, because he wasn’t sure how much longer his knees would hold him up anyway. He tipped his head back to look up at Tony, baring his throat, and whispered, “Yours, Alpha.”

Tony curled his hand around the side of Bucky’s neck, the symbolic bonding complete, and then utterly deviated from the traditional script to fold gracefully to one knee, himself. He didn’t even have a cushion -- who expected an Alpha to kneel? -- and Bucky had to look _down_ to meet Tony’s eyes. Tony winked, so fast Bucky almost missed it, and said, “Yours, as much as you are mine.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, and Tony smiled at what was probably his utterly confused expression. Tony leaned in and brushed a light kiss on Bucky’s cheek, then stood up again, and helped Bucky back to his feet so he could continue with the expected formula, presenting Bucky to their families as his Omega.

And it was over. Bucky felt half-dazed as Steve and his family embraced him, his mother and sister both crying.

Bucky introduced his family to Tony, who acted utterly charmed and charming. He shook hands, he flattered, he acted like his entire world had not just been turned upside down.

Tony brought Bucky to his witnesses, and Bucky tried to remember how to be polite and charming as he met Ms. Potts (“Oh, please call me Pepper; we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, I’m sure,”) and Colonel Rhodes.

Ms. Romanov hung back a little -- it was unusual for an alpha to attend a bonding ceremony that wasn’t their own, certainly not without being close family, and she wouldn’t want to, even symbolically, challenge Tony’s claim. But she gave Bucky one of those pleased cat-in-the-cream smiles and said, “Congratulations, Ser Stark.”

That set a whole new flutter of butterflies free in Bucky’s stomach.

Introductions done, the officiant left to file the paperwork and the privacy curtain was pulled back to reveal the little restaurant set for a meal.

Bucky took his seat next to Tony and ate what was put in front of him, but barely tasted a thing. He tried to distract his thoughts by watching Ms. Romanov and Steve, and by describing the highlights of their courtship to his family. But the whole time, Tony was next to him, close enough for Bucky to feel Tony’s body heat, to breathe in the sweet tang of Tony’s scent, and it was hard to focus on anything else.

It didn’t feel real, quite. It felt like a peculiar dream that he was floating through. He didn’t feel any different. Tony didn’t seem any different. Of course, bonded in law wasn’t quite the same thing as truly _bonded_. That wouldn’t happen until afterward, when they were alone together -- _truly_ alone -- for the first time.

Bucky shivered a little at the thought.

Tony noticed, of course. “Okay?” he asked, low. His hand curled around Bucky’s, his thumb stroking along Bucky’s wrist. That only made Bucky shiver again. “Don’t be scared,” Tony said.

Bucky tried to smile, tried to reach for the brash cockiness that had drawn Tony’s eye in the first place. “Yes, Alpha,” he said, deliberately playing it up.

Tony laughed and kissed Bucky’s cheek again, but not before Bucky had seen the way his pupils widened.

When the time came, though, when everyone had eaten and Tony offered Bucky his arm, the butterflies resumed their mad flights.

Bucky barely noticed the eyes on him as he put his hand on Tony’s arm and let Tony escort him out of the little restaurant. When he saw the waiting car, his steps dragged and he had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder for Clint. Tony was his Guardian now. His _bonded_. His _Alpha_.

“ _Now_ you’ve changed your mind?” Tony asked. He sounded just a little amused. Teasing.

“No,” Bucky said, because what else could he say? “I just... I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s all right,” Tony said. He opened the Griffith’s door for Bucky, then went around the car to slide into the driver’s seat. Instead of starting the car right away, though, he lifted Bucky’s wrist to his mouth and pressed a kiss there, his breath hot against Bucky’s skin. “I’ve never done this, either, you know.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Bucky’s voice cracked a little.

“Sure,” Tony said, nuzzling into Bucky’s palm. Tony turned Bucky’s hand a little, so that his fingers curled naturally around Tony’s jaw. Tony’s beard was scratchy and soft, both, under Bucky’s fingertips. “Bonding is for life,” Tony said, voice deep and relaxed. “All the A-O couples who’ve done this before, they almost _always_ have to come to this new. Not many get a chance to re-bond after losing their first, after all.” He paused. “Henry the Eighth had six Omegas,” he added thoughtfully. “But that’s an extreme example.”

“If you’re trying to put me at ease, bringing up someone who had his Omegas _killed_ when he got bored with them is really not the way to do it,” Bucky complained, but perversely, he did feel a little better.

Tony laughed, and the warm puff of his breath against Bucky’s hand was distracting. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Pretty sure that sort of thing is frowned on these days, though. Anyway, I can’t imagine getting bored with you.” He let go of Bucky, then, and started the car.

Bucky tried to relax, to enjoy the sweet purr of the car’s engine and its responsiveness. He couldn’t help watching the way Tony’s hands caressed the wheel and the gearshift -- he could almost imagine the car as a living creature that was obeying Tony’s suggestions rather than being pushed and pulled into compliance.

He wondered if Tony’s hands would have that same coaxing grace when they were on him. Another shiver rippled through him, one of longing rather than fear.

It seemed like an eternity that they were in the car, and it seemed like mere moments before Tony turned into a parking garage. He punched a code into the security system, and smoothly directed the car into a space that was labelled _Penthouse Parking_. He turned off the car and looked at Bucky, mouth opening as if he meant to speak, but then shook his head and got out of the car. He jogged around the car to open Bucky’s door, offering a hand for support, which Bucky took gratefully.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s a hotel,” Tony said. “I thought Stark Tower would be too obvious a location for the press. We’ll have to face them eventually, but I’d like to have at least a few days, first.”

Bucky nodded, then shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he clarified. It was almost a relief. Bonding would hurt, he knew, but he didn’t know how much. If it was terrible, he didn’t want to associate that memory with the place that would be his home.

Tony led them toward an elevator situated not far from the parking space. “Don’t be scared,” he said as they waited for it, an echo of his words from before.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened on a lush compartment, carpeted and lined with mirrors and glass. Bucky slipped his hand into Tony’s. “I’m not scared.” Tony would take care of him.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The elevator opened on a sitting room, all plush furniture and crystal and shining metal. Bucky stared so hard that Tony had to tug him out of the elevator, smiling indulgently.

Bucky had known Tony was wealthy, of course, but seeing such luxury was a little stunning. Bucky pulled his hand out of Tony’s and went to the wall of windows, looking out over the city, beginning to twinkle with the fall of night.

“Polarized glass,” Tony said. “We can see out, but no one else can see in.”

Bucky nodded, though he hadn’t thought about it. A soft clink made him turn around. Tony was at the built-in bar, pouring some brown liquid into a crystal tumbler. “Do you want a drink?” Tony offered. “Might help you relax a little.”

“I’m not allowed,” Bucky said, on automatic, and then flushed when he remembered that he was no longer bound by the rules of his House. “No,” he amended. “This... I’ll only be bound once. I’d like to remember it.”

Tony nodded. He took a single sip of his drink and set it aside, then crossed the room to stand in front of Bucky. “I’ll do my best to make it as easy as it can be.”

Bucky believed him. Pierce would have been enjoying Bucky’s fear, he thought. Would have relished Bucky’s pain as proof that Bucky belonged to him. Was he ever going to _stop_ comparing Pierce to Tony? Bucky nodded.

“Good,” Tony said. “Afterward, I’ll make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

_Let_ him? Tony was Bucky’s Alpha; he could do whatever he wanted with Bucky now.

Tony put a hand under Bucky’s chin and leaned in to kiss him on the mouth. It was nothing at all like the way Pierce had kissed him, which had been rough and hot and possessive. Tony’s kiss was slow and gentle. Bucky liked this, enjoyed the movement of Tony’s lips on his, until Tony pulled away, just a little. “Say my name, Bucky,” he said softly.

Bucky hesitated. “Tony?”

Tony kissed him again, his tongue flicking against Bucky’s lips. “Again,” he urged.

“Tony.” More kisses, Tony’s tongue teasing until Bucky opened for him, and then Tony was exploring his mouth, slick and wet and surprisingly good. “Tony,” Bucky said again, unprompted, breathing the syllables into Tony’s lungs.

“Good,” Tony praised. He tipped his head to trail his mouth along Bucky’s jaw, kissing and sucking down Bucky’s neck. His hand came around Bucky’s waist, and that thumb was stroking slow circles against Bucky’s back. His other hand cupped Bucky’s cheek, and Tony’s mouth was still kissing Bucky’s neck.

He moved downward, to the join of neck and shoulder, and Bucky tensed in anticipation, but Tony didn’t bite down, just kept kissing and licking and sucking gently.

“Tony?”

“Mm, it’s okay, just relax, honey,” Tony purred. He blew cool air across the heated skin, and Bucky gasped a little at the sensation. “That’s it, that’s right,” Tony said. “Want you to be feeling good, sweetheart.” His mouth moved upward again, and he caught Bucky’s earlobe in his teeth and tugged lightly. The movement, the puff of his breath into Bucky’s ear, sent a shiver of heat straight down Bucky’s spine. “You like that?”

“Tony...”

“Come on over here,” Tony coaxed. He led Bucky to the couch and tugged Bucky to sit with him. “Let’s get comfortable, hm? We’ve got the whole night ahead of us, there’s no need to rush.”

Bucky bit his lip. It felt good, what Tony was doing, but part of him wanted to get it all over with, so he’d _know_.

Tony slipped the shirt down over Bucky’s shoulders, and his eyes were hungry on Bucky’s chest. “God, you’re beautiful. Just so... Oh, sweetheart, the things I want to do with you.”

Warmth climbed up out of Bucky’s stomach and bloomed up his neck, across his cheeks. Tony touched him, with just one hand, sliding over the curves of Bucky’s shoulders, down his chest. Tony’s thumb grazed over Bucky’s nipple, and Bucky gasped. “Tony!”

Tony glanced up and caught Bucky’s eye with a small smile. “Do you like that?” he asked. He did it again, leaving his thumb in place to circle Bucky’s nipple, teasing it into a taut peak. Bucky couldn’t help but arch into the touch. “Tell me, honey.”

Tony caught the little nub between two fingers and rolled it gently, sending sparks through Bucky’s body, wicked jolts of pleasure and something not unlike the frenzy of a heat. “Oh, oh, oh, _Tony_ ,” he cried. “It’s so...” He shook his head, unable to think of words to describe it.

“I know,” Tony said, reassuring. “You’re so sensitive, it’s utterly gorgeous.” He leaned down and flicked his tongue over Bucky’s nipple, hot breath and then a shock of cool air over the moistened skin. Tony suckled at it, and Bucky wailed at the sensation, arching desperately.

Tony’s fingers found Bucky’s other nipple, and he played between them, first one and then the other, and then both at the same time, until Bucky had to reach up and grab onto Tony’s arm for balance, head lolling back with a moan.

“That’s perfect, sweetheart,” Tony said. Tony’s hand slid downward to cup Bucky’s cock through his trousers, and Bucky jolted with the touch. “You’ve touched yourself here before,” Tony said. It wasn’t a question. “They told you that you shouldn’t, I expect, but you did anyway.”

Bucky shuddered. “Can’t go through heat without,” he said.

“And the rest of the time?” Tony prodded. He squeezed gently, and Bucky rocked up into it.

“Sometimes,” Bucky admitted. His cock belonged to his Alpha, he knew, but sometimes he hadn’t be able to help himself. Sometimes, angry with the seclusion and restrictions, he’d done it in defiance.

“That’s such a gorgeous mental image,” Tony said. “One day, I want to watch you touch yourself like this. Show me what you did, what you liked best. Teach me to please you.”

Oh, _god_. He couldn’t do that, could he? With Tony _watching_ him? A shudder wracked Bucky’s body, and he stared at Tony, cheeks flaming.

As if reading Bucky’s mind, Tony shook his head. “Not tonight,” he promised. “Tonight, I’ll do my best for you.” He unfastened Bucky’s trousers and slid his hand inside, eyes locked with Bucky’s and that small smile on his lips.

Bucky had to close his eyes when Tony’s hand brushed over Bucky’s cock directly; it was too much, feeling so much while Tony’s eyes were so intent on his. “Tony,” he gasped.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Tony said. “I love to hear you say my name.” He curled his hand around Bucky’s cock and stroked it once, twice, three times, until Bucky was thrusting up into his hand and whining for more.

“Let me hear you, let me see you.” Tony’s hand kept moving, even as Tony gently pressed Bucky to lay back against the couch and stretched out over him to kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck. “Go on, Bucky, I want to see it. I want you to come for me.”

Bucky whined and felt the heat pool in his belly. Lower, an ember of desire and need that flared to life and grew with each gentle stroke, each soft, encouraging word. Bucky felt like he was falling, scrabbled for something to hold on to, and found himself clutching at Tony’s arm. “Tony!”

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” Tony said. “You can let go.”

He couldn’t. His fist closed more tightly, bunching in the fabric of Tony’s shirt. It had never been so intense before, those stolen moments where he’d defiantly, guiltily pleasured himself. He’d never felt this hot, like there was a fire under his skin. “Tony,” he begged. “Please...”

Tony’s hand kept moving, kept building that fire. “Yes,” he said. “That’s it, that’s perfect, you’re so beautiful.”

Bucky tossed his head from side to side, threw it back to show his throat. Tony was there immediately, licking and sucking. Bucky’s world exploded, a burst of fire and light that made him cry out in helpless pleasure.

A sharp pain, then, as Tony bit down on his neck, Alpha canines piercing the skin. The pain wrapped itself in Bucky’s pleasure like a gossamer gown, and it was almost as perfectly sublime as the climax.

Tony licked at the bite marks, and Bucky felt a sizzle of sensation under his skin, the bond beginning to form. Tony wiped the spill from his skin and licked at the marks again. The pressure of Tony’s tongue made the wounds ache, but relieved the itchy sparking sensation.

“So good, so beautiful,” Tony was saying. “You were perfect, sweetheart, so good for me.”

Bucky opened his eyes and found Tony looking at him with hungry, dark eyes. Predator’s eyes, those. Bucky swallowed. “Tony?”

“You’re mine, now,” Tony said, and licked at Bucky’s neck again. “ _Mine_.” It came out on a growl, a challenge.

Bucky drew a breath and nearly choked in surprise. Tony’s metal-and-coconut scent had shifted, become stronger, become mixed with Bucky’s scent. He hadn’t realized it would happen so _fast_. There was no doubt at all that Tony owned Bucky, now. Every strange Alpha or Omega would scent Bucky on Tony. “Yours, Alpha,” he agreed.

Tony tucked his head down against Bucky’s neck with a satisfied hum. Bucky’s own scent was shifting, he knew. By morning, it would have lost that particular tang that meant _available_. Without it, he would scent as _claimed_.

_Protected_.

_Owned_ , Bucky thought, and tried to work up a sense of resentment, but Tony was nuzzling against the bond marks and petting Bucky’s hair and murmuring praise into Bucky’s skin and he was still a little dazed from his orgasm, and it was all just... _nice_.

After a moment, Tony sat up. “Come on, Bucky. Bed.”

Bucky whined deep in his throat -- he didn’t want to move -- but Tony chuckled and caught his hand, tugging him upright. “It’ll be more comfortable,” Tony coaxed. “And I promised I’d make up for the bonding.”

And Tony probably wanted to fuck him, Bucky realized, because Tony hadn’t gotten off yet. But Tony was being so solicitous, maybe that would be okay. Bucky swallowed the sudden return of his nerves and let Tony pull him up.

His shirt hung off his shoulders and his trousers were undone, and he felt somehow dirtier, more debauched, than if he were completely naked. But Tony was looking at him with open admiration and approval. “You’re so gorgeous,” he said.

“You sure that’s not the bond talking?” Bucky wondered.

Tony laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. You were beautiful before we bonded. Come on.” He caught Bucky’s hand and tugged, and Bucky followed him into an enormous, palatial bedroom. Tony stopped at the middle of the room and turned to face Bucky. “Let me undress you?” It came out sounding like a question.

“Alpha?”

“No,” Tony said, gently. “Just Tony. I’ll be Alpha when I need to be, during heats, or if I have to defend you. Formal occasions, if I must. But for this, just the two of us... Right now, I’m just Tony, asking if I can undress you, take you to bed and make love to you. If you don’t want that, if you’d rather wait for your heat...” He shrugged. “I can wait, if I must.”

Bucky was nervous, but he didn’t want to wait. Tony had been kind and generous already, and Bucky wanted to know what those hands would feel like on his skin, wanted to know what kind of lover Tony would be, how Tony would compare to all the lovers Bucky had imagined. “Tony,” he corrected himself. “Yes, Tony.” He held out his arms, offering himself.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Tony could only stare for a long moment. This beautiful -- and beautifully responsive -- man was _his_? Was saying yes to _him_?

Was trusting Tony to take care of him, which Tony could not do while staring like an asshole.

Tony stepped closer to push the shirt the rest of the way down Bucky’s arms, letting it fall to the floor. He kissed Bucky’s shoulder, followed the line of it up against Bucky’s throat, nuzzled at the bond mark a little more, though the bleeding had stopped already. He’d done a good job of that, just a single puncture right over the bonding gland, perfectly situated. The mark would spread a little, but not grow so huge that it would look tacky, or like Tony’d had to gnaw it into being.

He’d never quite understood the bonded Alpha’s obsession with their Omegas’ marks, but it pulled him like a magnet now. Bucky hissed a little as Tony licked at the mark, and Tony made himself move on.

He raised his hands, feeling the smooth, firm planes and curves that made up Bucky’s chest. Thumbed over Bucky’s nipples again, just to hear Bucky gasp, feel that shiver of sensation.

_Mine_.

He probably shouldn’t enjoy that so much. Shouldn’t feel it deep in his chest whenever Bucky called him _Alpha_. That sort of possessiveness was exactly what Bucky hated in Alphas -- and who could blame him?

“Tony, ah--!”

At least it was equally thrilling to finally hear Bucky say his name. “What is it, honey?” Tony purred, still teasing Bucky’s nipples. He ducked his head to suck one into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hard little nub.

“Tony, I can’t, I...” Bucky’s voice broke on his name, and he staggered a little.

Tony caught him. Bucky was flushed and dazed and wide-eyed, and Tony wanted to growl in triumph for having made him look that way.

“Here, sweetheart,” he said instead, “Come sit on the bed so you won’t fall.” He nudged Bucky back, across the room, until Bucky hit the bed and sat down, hard. “There you go,” Tony said. “I want to make you feel good,” he told Bucky. “You’ve been so perfect, so brave, so beautiful. I just want to treat you like you deserve. Can I do that for you?”

Bucky nodded, still staring like Tony was some unfathomable creature. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

Tony kissed him, slow and careful, mapping his mouth and teasing at his lips, until he was panting and chasing after Tony each time Tony began to back away. “You don’t have to do anything,” Tony promised. “Just tell me if you don’t like something, and let me love you.”

God, he wanted that. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of Bucky’s skin, tease and torment until Bucky was writhing and begging, to take Bucky apart and then bury himself in Bucky’s body. He groaned, thinking of it.

Bucky bit his lip, and Tony kissed him, sucking it back out to drag his own teeth over it. _Mine_.

Tony discarded his shirt and then came back to mouth his way over Bucky’s chest, down onto his stomach, pressing Bucky to lie back, to relax into it. He felt each breath Bucky took under his cheek, each soft little gasp as Tony’s beard scraped over the soft skin, each sigh of pleasure. “That’s it,” he praised, smoothing his hands over Bucky’s skin. “That’s perfect.”

Bucky was gorgeous, laid back against the bed and looking up at Tony through hooded eyes. Tony rubbed his face against Bucky’s stomach, just to feel it jump, and then slipped his hands under Bucky’s underwear and began to work them off, along with the pants.

Bucky’s breath turned ragged, but he braced his feet and lifted his hips, and then he was naked. Tony paused for a moment, looking. Bucky was getting hard again already, pretty cock flushed red and curving up and to the left, just a bit.

Tony ducked his head to lick at the tip, and was rewarded with a bitter-salt taste of precome before Bucky jerked upright with a surprised, “Tony!”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asked, sliding his hand up and down Bucky’s hip, coaxing. “You don’t like that?”

“I. I don’t... I didn’t...”

Tony hummed his understanding and did it again, slower this time, feeling his way around the head of Bucky’s cock, the underside of the ridge and the sensitive slit.

Bucky made a high-pitched whine, and his hand clasped Tony’s shoulder. It twitched a few times as if Bucky couldn’t decide whether to pull Tony off or to thrust up into Tony’s mouth.

“You like it?” Tony asked as he pulled off.

Bucky nodded helplessly.

Tony grinned. _Mine_ , he thought. He’d made Bucky feel good. “That’s perfect,” Tony said. He nudged Bucky back down onto the bed. “I’m going to make you feel even better,” he promised.

There was lube in the drawer that he’d put there earlier. Bucky watched, uncertain but trusting, as Tony opened the bottle and squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers. “Just relax, honey,” Tony said. He took Bucky’s cock back into his mouth, sucking gently until Bucky started moving with him. Then he slipped his fingers between Bucky’s crack, teasing at Bucky’s hole.

“Tony, oh...”

Tony hummed, flicking his tongue across Bucky’s slit as a distraction as he tugged gently on Bucky’s rim. He worked his finger into Bucky’s hole slowly, listening for any sign of discomfort from Bucky.

He fucked Bucky’s hole with his finger, feeling it clench around him, and his own cock jumped with eagerness. When he felt Bucky loosen a little, accepting him, he worked in another finger, curling it until he heard Bucky let out another soft wail of surprise and desire.

He took his mouth from Bucky’s cock, then, to watch Bucky’s face as Tony loosened him more. Blushing, Bucky bit his lip and tossed his head, but his hand stayed clutched on Tony’s shoulder, tightening and loosening in a rhythm Tony couldn’t quite predict.

“I want to be in you,” Tony said, half-begging. “Please.”

“Tony, yes, I need--” Bucky arched his back and rolled his hips, trying to draw Tony even deeper.

Tony shucked off his pants and rocked into the cradle of Bucky’s thighs. He lifted one of Bucky’s legs to wrap around his hip, then took himself in hand and lined up.

Sliding into Bucky’s body felt like coming home.

_Mine_.

Under him, Bucky’s eyes opened wide and then fluttered closed. “Tony, please, more,” he begged. “I want--”

“I know,” Tony promised, dipping his head to claim Bucky’s mouth. “God, you feel so good.” He pulled out halfway and then slowly sank back in, groaning at the sensations.

Bucky’s hands couldn’t seem to settle, clenching in the blankets or sliding over Tony’s shoulders or wrapping around Tony’s back. One hand tangled into Tony’s hair, then let go an instant later. “Tony,” he gasped, “Tony, please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Tony said. He curled his hands around Bucky’s shoulders and set up a slow rhythm, teasing himself as much as Bucky. He nuzzled into Bucky’s neck, licking at the bondmark.

Bucky threw his head back, offering Tony his throat, and arched up to meet Tony’s thrusts. His breath came in short pants and whines.

Tony pushed himself up on one hand and worked the other between them, wrapping it around Bucky’s cock. “Want you to come for me, honey,” he rasped. “Want to see it again, how gorgeous you are when you let go. Want to feel it, feel your pleasure while I’m in you.”

Bucky couldn’t have blushed harder, but he bit his lip and rolled his hips, thrusting into Tony’s fist before driving back down onto Tony’s cock. It was glorious, the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen, Bucky lost to the moment of pleasure and taking what he needed, what he wanted.

Bucky’s mouth hung open, bitten red and swollen, and Tony couldn’t resist capturing it with his own, tasting Bucky’s lips and curling his tongue against the roof of Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky’s eyes opened wide, almost frantic, and then he tensed all over and came, spilling over Tony’s hand, clenching down so hard Tony could barely keep thrusting.

As soon as Bucky relaxed again, Tony planted both hands and set up a driving rhythm, chasing his own pleasure. He shuddered as he felt his climax nearing. “Oh, honey, Bucky, so good,” he panted.

Bucky lifted his head to tuck his face up against Tony’s neck, his breath hot against Tony’s ear. “Yours, Alpha,” he whispered.

_Mine_ , Tony’s mind exulted. He dissolved into a wave of light and sensation, burying himself in the sharp, clean snowfall scent of his Omega.

He came back to himself when Bucky hissed in something like pain, and Tony realized he was sucking on the bondmark again. “Sorry,” he rasped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. “Or it will be, when it heals. It almost feels good _now_ , except that it’s... tender.”

“Nn,” Tony acknowledged. He carefully withdrew and collapsed next to Bucky. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you at all?”

Bucky flushed bright red. “That was... I wasn’t expecting it to be so good,” he confessed. “It was _wonderful_.”

“Good,” Tony said. He laced his fingers with Bucky’s, then drew Bucky closer to him. “You were perfect, Ser Stark. And now I need a nap.”

Bucky yawned, then -- a touch hesitantly -- cuddled closer. “A nap sounds good.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Tony asked for what Bucky thought was at least the twentieth time.

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” Bucky assured him. “You do remember that you picked me out at first because I was willing to be independent, right?”

“Yes, but you’re not used to being _alone_ ,” Tony pointed out. He stopped packing and put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, thumbs lightly caressing. “I never meant for you to have to be alone for so long.”

Bucky hummed and leaned in to kiss Tony and nuzzle reassuringly at his jaw and neck. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated. “It might be nice to have time to get some reading done. I can always go visiting at Brooklyn House if I get lonely.”

Tony sighed and tucked his nose up against Bucky’s bondmark, which after two weeks was still a little tender, but almost healed. “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “But it is important, and you have to go.”

“I _really_ wish I could take you with me,” Tony said. “You’d _love_ Tokyo.”

“There will be other trips,” Bucky said philosophically. He wished he could go with Tony, too, but this was an emergency trip for Tony, and while they’d applied for a passport for Bucky, it would still be several weeks before it arrived.

Tony finished zipping up his suitcase. He hefted it and looked at Bucky with a long face. “I’ll miss you,” he said.

That warmed Bucky all over, and he couldn’t suppress a smile. “I’ll miss you, too,” he admitted. “But I’ll be fine. You’ll call when you get there? And every night?”

“Every night,” Tony promised. “I’ll be gone for about a week.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “I was there when Ms-- when Pepper called.” That was taking some time to get used to, but she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said they would be seeing a lot of each other, and she seemed very sincere about wanting Bucky to call her Pepper.

Tony curled his hand around Bucky’s neck and pulled Bucky in for a kiss, slow and deliberate and heated. “Don’t forget about me.”

Bucky laughed a little. “As if I could.”

***

Assurances aside, their apartment seemed bigger, _emptier_ , without Tony there. The first day was fine -- Bucky spent it mostly how he’d spent the last few days, since Tony had gone back to work. He thumbed his way through Tony’s extensive library and read for a few hours. He watched a movie. He went to his driving lesson. He ordered dinner to be delivered.

He may have calculated the exact flight time between New York and Tokyo a few times.

It was late when Tony finally called. “Hey, sweetheart. Finally made it to the hotel.”

“You sound _exhausted_ ,” Bucky said.

“It was a long trip,” Tony said. “And I still have a dinner to go to, but I wanted to call you before I did anything else. It’s late, there. Did you stay up just for me?”

“Of course,” Bucky said. “What was I going to do, leave a message that I was too busy to talk to you?”

“You could’ve gone to sleep, how should I know?”

“I’ll sleep in, tomorrow,” Bucky said.

“Oh, the indolent life,” Tony teased. “Got any plans for tomorrow?”

“I thought I’d go to the park,” Bucky said. “There’s some kind of craft fair that sounds like fun.”

Tony snorted. “Not my idea of fun, but whatever floats your boat.”

“At least I’m not going to be stuck in stuffy meeting rooms all day,” Bucky teased back.

“Ouch.” Tony laughed, and then sighed. “Miss you already,” he said.

“I know. Miss you, too. But my mark’s been itching all day; I think without you poking at it, it’s finally healing up.” Bucky rubbed at his neck to try to relieve the prickling sensation, which of course got worse when he thought about it.

“That’s good,” Tony said. “Should be all done by the time I get home, huh?”

“Hope so,” Bucky said. “I should let you go back to your work, I guess.”

“And I should let you get some sleep,” Tony agreed. “I’ll call at a more reasonable hour tomorrow, I promise.”

***

One of the best things about being bonded, Bucky thought, was the freedom it gave him. No Guardian trailing after him, blathering about honor and purity. No long hours of being confined to the House. When Bucky wanted to go out, he just... went.

It was a gorgeous day. Bucky thought he’d walk down to the quiet little bistro for lunch --  Tony had taken him there a week or so ago, their first night together in Tony’s apartment instead of in the hotel. After lunch, he would go to the park to see the craft fair. There was a car show coming to the park at the end of the week, too, and he was trying to decide if he was brave enough to go to that as an unattended Omega.

He was halfway to the bistro when a patrolling police officer said, “Excuse me, ser.”

“Yes?”

“Where’s your Guardian?”

“My-- I’m bonded,” Bucky said.

The officer gave him a stern look. “Ser, I don’t want to get you into any more trouble than you’re already in.”

“I am!” Bucky protested. He pointed at his neck. “Look!”

“I see you’ve got a scar there,” the officer said, “but you definitely don’t scent like a bonded Omega. You’re lucky you haven’t walked past any Alphas like this.”

“But I--” Bucky lifted his wrist to his nose and froze. He _did_ smell unbonded. Available. What the hell?

“This doesn’t have to be difficult,” pressed the officer. “Just tell me which House you’re from, and I’ll take you right on back.”

Bucky thought about arguing some more -- he had an ID showing his name as Stark, with Tony’s address on it -- but if he smelled unbonded, then the police were the least of his problems. “Brooklyn House,” he said. Ms. Carter would surely help him.

“How the hell did you get all the way to Manhattan?” the officer marveled. “Okay, I’m gonna call for someone to drive us.” He called for pickup and stayed with Bucky as they climbed into the back of the police car, a de facto Guardian. Bucky might have been resentful, but the officer driving the car was an Alpha, and the way he looked at Bucky was... concerning.

Bucky slumped into the corner of the car and ignored the passing world, surreptitiously scenting his own wrist over and over, trying to find any trace of Tony’s scent left in it.

As he’d hoped, Peggy Carter welcomed him into the house, confused but more than willing. The officer tried to lecture her about keeping a tighter rein on the House Omegas, but she stared him down until he left off, sputtering.

As soon as the police left, she took Bucky back to her office. “What happened, darling?”

“I don’t know!” Bucky said, close to hysterics now that he was somewhere safe. “Everything was fine! This isn’t supposed to _happen_.”

“It does, rarely,” Ms. Carter said. “Usually in Omegas too weak or sickly to maintain the bond, or when the Alpha doesn’t properly care for the wounds.”

“We were doing fine,” Bucky said again.

“Have you called Tony?” she asked.

Bucky shook his head. “He’s in Tokyo. I don’t even know what time it is there.”

Ms. Carter looked at the clock and sighed. “Well. Let’s see what we can learn before we wake him up.”

She led Bucky back to the infirmary. Bucky’s steps dragged as he realized their destination, but Brooklyn House’s infirmary was nothing like Hydra’s. Dr. Cho met them with a smile, listened to their explanation, and took Bucky to a room that was small, but had nothing in it but a padded exam table and a curtained-off nook.

“I’d like to look at your bond scar,” she said. “Is that all right?”

Bemused by the fact that she was asking and not telling, Bucky nodded. Dr. Cho’s hands were cool and gentle as she tipped his head to the side and prodded gently at Bucky’s neck, feeling the bonding gland underneath.

“Except for the scar, it really does seem like you’ve never bonded,” she said. “When was your last heat?”

“About three weeks ago. Before I bonded.”

“And when did the wound heal over?”

“Just in the last day or so, I guess,” Bucky said. He blushed as he tried to explain, “Tony kept... messing with it.”

Dr. Cho didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment. “It’s normal for a newly-bound Alpha to want to lick their Omega’s bond wound,” she said. “It helps the bond grow stronger.”

“Then why did mine disappear?” Bucky wondered.

“That, I don’t know,” Dr. Cho said. “I’d like to take some samples, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bucky agreed. He watched as she drew blood from his arm, held still as she took fluid from the gland. Let her maneuver him so she could take x-rays.

“I’ll let you know if I’m able to figure anything out,” she promised.

When Bucky left the infirmary, he found Steve waiting impatiently just outside. “Buck!” he exclaimed. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, miserable. He was tired of having to say that. “My bond just... stopped working.”

“They don’t do that,” Steve argued.

“I know,” Bucky said. “But it did.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with me again, as long as you need to.”

Bucky pulled a face. “At least until you’re bonded with Nat and go live with her.”

Steve brushed that off, as if his own bonding was a trivial thing. “Do you think it’s something Hydra did?” he asked. “It was in the news, that they were doing all kinds of crazy things to you all.”

Bucky started to deny it, then reconsidered. “Hang on.” he ducked back into the infirmary. “My last heat,” he said, when Dr. Cho looked up at him. “It wasn’t my normal cycle. Hydra induced it with some kind of... injection.”

Her eyebrows went up. “There have been heat inducers produced before,” she said, “but none have made it through the clinical trials. Do you know what it was?”

Bucky shook his head. “It was pink? Something Dr. Zola made himself, I think.”

“Thank you,” she said seriously. “That might be good to know.”

Bucky went back out into the hall where Steve was waiting. “She’ll check,” he summarized. “Come on, I need some moral support for this next part.”

Ms. Carter took one look at Bucky and nodded crisply. “Use my office,” she said. “And James? Everything will be all right.”

“If you say so, ma’am,” Bucky replied politely. He could see that she knew he didn’t quite believe her, but he _wanted_ to believe it, so before she could say anything else, he pulled Steve along with him down the hall toward her office.

Door closed behind them, Bucky pulled out his new phone and stared at it. “He could have the bonding annulled,” he told the screen.

“He won’t,” Steve said.

“It’s not a romance,” Bucky said. “He told me, right from the first. If I can’t stay properly bonded...”

“Maybe it started out that way,” Steve said. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. There’s something there. He won’t leave you twisting in the wind. And if he does, then he’s an idiot, and I’ll be happy to tell him so.”

Steve’s fierce loyalty was a balm. Bucky pulled him into a rough hug, then perched on the edge of a visitor’s chair and pulled up Tony’s contact. He swallowed hard, and tapped Call.

Ring. Ring. Bucky fidgeted. Ring. Ri--

“Bucky?” Tony’s voice was slurred with sleep. “Everything okay?”

Bucky swallowed. “No. No, it’s not.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky felt better after talking to Tony. Tony had been concerned and reassuring and outraged on Bucky’s behalf. He’d offered to send a driver to bring Bucky back to the apartment, which he probably wouldn’t have done if he was thinking of having their bond annulled, would he?

Bucky had declined the offer, though. He couldn’t imagine pacing around the empty apartment, unable to so much as step outside, waiting for his fate to be decided. “If you and Ms. Carter don’t mind,” he had said, “I’d rather stay here, with Steve. Dr. Cho might need more samples, anyway.”

“Whatever you want,” Tony had promised. “Text me Dr. Cho’s number, too, so she can keep me in the loop. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Two days at most.”

Bucky should have protested, told Tony not to neglect the business just for Bucky’s sake, but he hadn’t been able to say the words. He _wanted_ Tony home, wanted the reassurance of being able to look into Tony’s eyes. Wanted to feel Tony’s hands holding his.

He’d spent the rest of the day in Steve’s room, hiding from the curious stares of the younger Omegas, trying to read but not being able to focus.

As soon as breakfast was done the next morning, he made his way to the infirmary, hoping for some kind of news.

“It does look like your bonding gland has completely reset to an unbonded state,” she told Bucky. “That’s unheard of. Even for rejected bonds, there’s usually some traces of the attempt. And for it to have happened so quickly... It’s got to be something to do with the formula that Hydra gave you, but without samples to test, I have no idea whether it’s permanent or how to counteract it.”

Bucky rubbed at the scars on his neck self-consciously. “Not even any guesses?”

She shook her head. “I’ll keep looking at it, but we may just have to wait and see what happens.”

That wasn’t very helpful. How could he brace for the worst if he didn’t know what the worst _was_? “What are the possibilities?”

She stared into the distance, considering. She didn’t try to tell him that they should wait for his Alpha to go over it all, for which he was grateful. “The drugs might flush from your system on their own after some time -- a few weeks wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. They might flush with your next heat. It might have been a one-time glitch, and the next bonding will take hold properly. Or it might be a more permanent alteration to your hormonal makeup, rendering you incapable of maintaining a long-term bond.”

“So I’d either have to live bondless, or re-bond every couple of weeks?” Bucky bit his lip. That was a lot to ask of Tony.

“It’s by no means certain that this is a permanent change,” Dr. Cho reminded him. “Don’t start panicking yet. I’ve applied to the city for access to the Hydra evidence, so I might be able to develop a counteragent.”

Bucky nodded, shaky. “Right. Of course. I... Thank you.”

“We’re going to do everything we can to help you,” she said kindly. “That includes Mr. Stark.”

Bucky managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

***

When Ms. Romanov turned up to see Steve that afternoon, Steve refused to leave Bucky alone. So she stayed in the House with them, Clint lounging in the corner of the room like always. She and Steve played chess while Bucky tried not to get in their way. Steve, loyal brat that he was, insisted on dragging Bucky into things.

Bucky protested, but Ms. Romanov didn’t seem to mind. “Do you play?” she asked Bucky. “Play me next, then.”

Steve won that game -- he’d always been good at strategy games as a child -- and then ceded his chair to Bucky. Bucky would have protested, except that when Steve dragged over another chair so he could watch the game, he ended up sitting even closer to Ms. Romanov than before.

Strategy, indeed. Bucky suppressed a smile and tried to focus on the board.

His attention wasn’t what it should be; Ms. Romanov decimated his pieces in short order. He was trying to decide if he should keep fighting or just concede when Tony swept into the room, Ms. Carter at his heels.

“Bucky, honey.” He pulled Bucky into a hug and tucked his face in against Bucky’s neck, apparently oblivious to their audience. “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” he said. “It’s completely _gone_.” Tony still smelled bonded. That had to be distressing.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, suddenly worried again. “Dr. Cho still doesn’t know why, or how to fix it, or--”

“Hey, slow down,” Tony rumbled. He cupped Bucky’s face in his hands. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to fix this, I promise.”

Bucky huffed a little. “You can’t promise that,” he said.

“I promise that no matter what those Hydra fuckers did to you, I’m not letting you go,” Tony said firmly. “So it’s going to be okay.”

Something tight eased in Bucky’s chest. “Okay,” he said, and took a breath that finally felt like it filled his lungs. “Okay.” He attempted a smile. “I’m blaming you, you know. You’re the one who brought up Henry the Eighth on our bonding night.”

“Wow,” interjected Ms. Romanov, “that’s awful, even for your runaway mouth, Tony.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be nervous?” Tony protested. “Besides, you’re missing the context!”

“What context could possibly make that okay?” Steve wondered.

“None,” Clint answered from his corner. “There is no context that makes that okay.” He grinned at Bucky. “You sure you don’t want to take this opportunity to run screaming? No one would blame you.”

Bucky laughed. It felt good. Like there was hope. He reached for Tony’s hand, weaving their fingers together. “I’m sure,” he said. The smile Tony gave him, pleased and maybe even a little relieved, almost made the whole ordeal worthwhile.

***

Tony didn’t generally like to throw his Alpha status around; it was considered crass, crude behavior that was avoided by anyone civilized. Which didn’t stop the crass, crude Alpha assholes out there one bit. Still, Tony had always felt that if he needed to metaphorically pound his chest and growl, he wasn’t projecting his authority well enough.

On the other other hand, sometimes a situation called for a little uncivilized behavior. Such as, for instance, when his Omega’s bond had broken -- no, not broken, _disappeared_ \-- and the likely culprit was behind bars awaiting trial, and the samples that might help had been impounded as evidence.

Tony was _not panicking_. He was simply facilitating a more speedy solution to the problem. It just so happened that the speedy solution to the problem required a little terse edge to his voice, a little name-dropping of certain Alpha friends in high places, and, yes, a little growling that might have been closer to actual than metaphorical.

Whatever. It worked, was the important thing. By the time dinner was done, a courier had arrived with a sample of the heat-inducing drug, and an injunction for Dr. Cho to present her findings, whatever they were, at the trial, as well as sharing them with the doctors treating the other Omegas who had been rescued from Hydra House.

The way the politics worked, Tony would get a public commendation of some sort for arranging the whole thing, and a private slap on the wrist from the mayor, and Tony would have to be very careful about his name-dropping for the next six months or so. But Tony didn’t really care about any of that. It would all be worth it, if it helped Bucky.

Bucky had been hovering close to Tony, almost as if he were afraid Tony might disappear. He was casually tactile, too, keeping Tony’s hand in his or leaning into Tony’s side almost constantly.

Tony couldn’t complain; he felt a little twitchy at the thought of Bucky leaving his sight, too, and it soothed something raw in him to have his arm around Bucky’s waist or a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. _His_ bond hadn’t disappeared. Tony couldn’t help wondering if this side-effect had been intentional on Hydra’s part. If they intended that their Omegas would have to keep coming back to the House so they could extort more money from the Alphas bonded to them.

“I’ll try to make this quick,” said Dr. Cho, “since I’m sure you would both like to get home, and Mr. Stark is probably suffering intense jetlag.”

Tony _was_ exhausted, but this was more important. He’d done more on less sleep. “Go ahead,” he told her.

“You’ll have to re-bond before you leave here,” she said. “We’ll give you one of the infirmary rooms for some privacy.” Bucky flushed so hard that Tony could feel the heat radiating off him, no doubt thinking about their first bonding. Dr. Cho pretended not to notice. “I’d like to take a couple of quick samples after that’s done, before you go. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like you both to come back tomorrow so I can keep tabs on what’s going on.”

“That all sounds very reasonable,” Tony said. “And you’ll keep us apprised of your progress?”

“As I’ve already promised Ser Stark -- of course.” She waved toward a short, brightly-light hall. “Let me give you two some privacy.” She ushered them into a small, clean room. It had a narrow bed, a standing wardrobe and a little table on wheels, and not much else. A half-open door led to a bathroom that Tony suspected connected with the next room over. “It’s a little cramped,” she admitted, “but you won’t need it for very long, I expect.”

Bucky blushed again, but then Dr. Cho left, closing the door behind her, and they were alone.

Tony pulled Bucky into his arms. Bucky went willingly, eagerly, tucking his head down into Tony’s neck. “God, Tony, I’m sorry, I--”

“Hey, no,” Tony said, trying to keep his tone gentle. Soothing. “This wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. You didn’t know. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He tipped Bucky’s head up and brushed a kiss across Bucky’s lips. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky said agreeably. He met Tony’s eyes, then deliberately tipped his head to the side. “Yours, Alpha.”

_God_ , those words tugged on the most primal instincts Tony had, the ones he couldn’t fight. It hadn’t taken Bucky long at all to suss that out. Tony could feel the room swimming around him even as he pressed his lips to Bucky’s throat, licking and tasting, feeling for the soft, spongy texture of the bonding gland just under the surface. It was swollen and ripe, taunting him.

To an outsider, maybe even to an Omega, the moment of bonding looked like Alpha dominance and control, but to Tony, it felt like surrender. Like an act of worship. _Let me be yours_. He caught the swollen flesh between his teeth and bit down.

Bucky gasped. “Tony!” His hands clenched on Tony’s arms, a spasm of surprise and pain.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Tony promised. He licked at the wound, as gently as he could. Copper-bright tang of blood and the sweet nectar flavor of the bonding fluid. Tony hadn’t lost his bond to Bucky in the first place, but he wasn’t averse to strengthening it. Besides, if he remembered his long-ago health class, it was the presence of his own saliva in the wound that would trigger Bucky’s bonding, would signal the bonding gland to shrink and stop producing the sweet scent of an available Omega.

Bucky didn’t push him away, so he licked again, a little firmer. Already depleted, Tony could smell himself in Bucky’s neck, just a little. _Bonded. Mine_.

He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until Bucky laughed a little and said, “Yeah, Tony, yours.” Bucky curled into Tony’s arms and Tony never wanted to let go.

 


	18. Chapter 18

“I’m about eighty percent certain,” Dr. Cho told them a few days later, “that this is going to be flushed out with Bucky’s next heat.”

“What’ll it take to get that percentage higher?” Tony asked.

Dr. Cho gave Tony a look that made Bucky laugh. “The results of my tests after his next heat,” she said drily. “Or a year’s worth of testing in a much more comprehensive lab than I have here in the House. By which time we’ll already know.”

Bucky took Tony’s hand and squeezed it. “Eighty percent is pretty good odds,” he said. It wasn’t as high as he’d hoped -- and it wasn’t as soon as he’d hoped, either. “What do we do in the meantime?”

“I hate to say it,” Dr. Cho said, “but Tony needs to keep rebonding you. If you don’t let the bond wound heal over completely, that will make it easier.”

Bucky grimaced. “For three more _months_?”

Dr. Cho spread her hands. “The other option is for you to let it heal and move back into the House until your next heat.”

“No,” Tony said quickly, and then hesitated. “Unless that’s what you want...” He looked desperately unhappy about the idea.

“No,” Bucky agreed. “If you’re okay with it, I want to stay with you.”

“There’s no way I can stay home for three months, though,” Tony said slowly. “It was hard enough taking off a couple of weeks to be bonded in the first place. It might be easier on you if you stayed here.”

Bucky scowled at his Alpha. “You promised me travel,” he pointed out. “There’s no reason I can’t go with you.”

“Honey, you don’t have your passport yet. I can take you with me anywhere in the country I have to go, but I spend a lot of time crossing borders.”

That... was true. They’d applied, the first week after the bonding, the first bonding, when they were arranging all of Bucky’s ID and records. But they’d been told it would take as much as a couple of months before it would come in. It had still only been a couple of weeks. “I’ll stay with the House when you go overseas,” Bucky bargained, “until my passport comes in. And we’ll just have to re-bond when you get back. But otherwise, I’ll stay with you.”

Tony kissed Bucky’s cheek. “If you’re willing to go that route, then I’m more than happy to. I’ll call Pepper, see if we can get your passport expedited. Or if we can avoid international travel for a little while, at least.” He beamed. “You’re going to _love_ Malibu.”

***

Tony was right; Malibu was amazing. Bucky especially loved the house there; if Bucky didn’t love New York so much, he’d try to talk Tony into making it their home base. As it was, he enjoyed at least a week there each month, since that was near SI’s West Coast headquarters. Tony had bought him a car there, and given him a place in the garage to poke at the engine to his heart’s content.

Its master bedroom was the perfect place for Bucky’s first bonded heat, too: spacious and bright, with windows all around them. As far away and different from the stuffy, dark cell Hydra had given him as it was possible to be. The view of the sunset over the ocean was so mesmerizing, Bucky was almost distracted from that telltale prickle down his spine.

Almost. But not quite.

“It’s starting again,” he said.

Tony hummed and rolled closer, pulling Bucky in against his chest sleepily. “Not yet,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” Bucky insisted. “Tony, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Tony opened one eye and lazily kissed Bucky’s shoulder. Then he woke up the rest of the way, his nostrils flaring and his eyes going dark as he picked up the scent of renewed heat. “Ah.” His hold on Bucky grew firmer as he tucked his face into Bucky’s neck. “Mine,” he rumbled. His cock stirred against Bucky’s backside, and Tony rolled his hips, seeking friction.

“Yours, Alpha,” Bucky agreed. The prickling settled deep into his balls and ass, and a whine slipped through Bucky’s teeth. He pushed back against Tony’s growing erection, trying to hurry it along, though it might take a little longer this time. They were both exhausted from the demands of the heat, and they’d only been able to nap for an hour or so between surges.

“God,” Tony breathed, sucking at Bucky’s bondmark. “You’re incredible,” he said. “I haven’t performed like this in over a decade. Or... ever, really.”

“Tony,” Bucky insisted. “Please!”

Tony’s hand slid over Bucky’s hip and traced the line of his ass. “Still wet from last time,” he observed, pushing into Bucky with two fingers. “Nice and open, too.”

Bucky whined again, pushing back onto Tony’s hand, needing more, needing to fill the void.

“Shh, that’s it, that’s perfect,” Tony said, nuzzling at Bucky’s neck. “Just relax, I’ve got you.” He curled his fingers to brush Bucky’s prostate.

It made the prickling turn into a crackle of lightning. Bucky wailed helplessly, wanting, _needing_. “Alpha!”

Tony growled and pushed Bucky over onto his stomach. Bucky spread his legs without even thinking about it, mindlessly humping against the bedsheets until Tony leaned on his hips to hold him still.

Tony pushed into Bucky’s crack with his thumbs and spread Bucky open. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped. He pushed into Bucky’s hole and tugged at the rim, stretching until Bucky gasped. It didn’t hurt, so much as underscore how _empty_ Bucky felt. “So damn gorgeous, and all mine.”

“Yours, Alpha. Please,” Bucky panted. He was trying not to squirm, but _god_ , it was hard, when all he wanted was held just out of his reach. “I need it. Need you.”

Tony pushed in, finally, one long, slow push that buried him to the hilt in Bucky’s body, reaching places that fingers simply couldn’t, easing somewhat that relentless, desperate ache.

“Oh, yes, _yes_.” Bucky groped blindly behind him until Tony caught his hand and laced their fingers together.

“I’ve got you,” Tony promised. He slid out, a slick agony, and then _slammed_ back in again, hard enough to make Bucky moan. The rhythm he started, then, was brutal perfection. Bucky clenched his hand and let each thrust shake loose a groan or a shout or a whine.

His body felt like it was on fire, in the best possible way, and he chased the sensation, rocking his hips into the bed, lifting his ass in presentation, urging Tony deeper and deeper still.

Tony’s breath spilled hot over Bucky’s neck and ear, surrounding him in the scent of metal and coconut and _Alpha_ , and it was almost perfect. “Come for me,” Tony growled. “Want to feel you tight and hot around me. Want it, want you.”

In the haze of heat, Tony’s urging hit Bucky with all the force of an Alpha command. He threw back his head and screamed as he came. Tony felt huge inside him as he clenched down around it, shuddering. It was good, it was so damn _good_ , but it wasn’t quite _enough_. “Alpha, Tony, _please._ ”

Tony’s teeth closed over the mostly-healed bondmark, gently, not biting but threatening to. Bucky shuddered. Yes, yes, _yes_. Tony’s speed redoubled, and all Bucky could do was hold on, letting the ache of heat blossom into cool relief, washing over his skin like a benediction even as Tony’s breath hitched and his motions stuttered into climax.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, and then Tony sighed and rolled off Bucky, onto his side. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”

Bucky nodded into the pillows, too exhausted to lift his head. “For now.”

Tony rubbed a hand up and down Bucky’s back, thumb digging into sore muscles in a sort of half-massage. “For now,” he agreed. “Maybe this time it’ll let us get a decent nap in.”

“Miracles do happen,” Bucky said. He could already feel the fuzzy edges of sleep tugging at him. The sun had long since set, and there was nothing to see out the big, beautiful windows except some stars. He dragged himself out of the wet spot he’d made and snuggled closer to Tony, tucking his head up into Tony’s neck, letting that Alpha scent soothe him into sleep.

***

It took another day and a half for Bucky’s heat to settle out. Bucky didn’t think he’d ever been so tired at the end of a heat before, but he’d definitely never felt so _satisfied_. They said the first one was the worst; maybe the next would let them rest a little more.

After the last surge, they both collapsed for almost twelve hours straight, and then Bucky got up to go to the bathroom and crawled back into bed for another six hours.

When he woke the second time, it was to clear skies around them and the warm feel of Tony curled up at his back. They were both more than a little ripe, and Bucky didn’t want to think about the state of the sheets, but he didn’t want to move just yet, either.

He ached all over, but not too badly. He stretched slowly, carefully, not wanting to wake Tony. But by the time he was done, he looked over to find Tony’s sleepy-lidded eyes watching him. “It’s okay, you can go back to sleep,” he said, reaching out to stroke his fingertips along the grain of Tony’s beard, scraggly and unkempt after nearly four days in bed.

“Done sleeping,” Tony said. He curled an arm around Bucky’s waist and drew Bucky closer, nuzzling into Bucky’s neck to lick at his bondmark.

“Unng, stop that,” Bucky complained, pushing Tony off. “We just had sex for almost three days straight, I need a break.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not sure I can get it up again for a week,” Tony said, eyes twinkling with amusement. He tucked his head back into Bucky’s neck, though. “I’m just checking. You’re all healed up.”

“Am I?” Bucky put his hand over the mark, feeling only smooth scars where a few days ago there had been sore wounds. “Guess so.” He bit his lip and eyed Tony’s expression. “And the verdict?”

Tony nosed into Bucky’s neck, taking a slow, deep breath. “You smell like... like _mine_.”

The bond hadn’t reset with the healing. Relief washed over Bucky like cool water. “Yours,” he said on a sigh, and tipped his head to let Tony snuggle in closer. “And you’re mine.”

“Always.”

 


End file.
